


Places We Won't Walk

by a_slightly_cracked_egg



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, I promise it will have a happy ending, all the things, also all yall seem super concerned about this but, oh also like general trigger warnings for hanahaki disease, so like chronic illness and throwing up and minor amounts of blood, the usual trigger warnings for like the queens' backstories and such, yay flowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_slightly_cracked_egg/pseuds/a_slightly_cracked_egg
Summary: It started when she saw Anne cry for the first time.She felt an uncomfortable tickle in her throat.It took her another month to realize just how screwed she was.(Hanahaki Disease AU)
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon, Katherine Howard/Catherine Parr (background)
Comments: 111
Kudos: 173





	1. Sunlight Dances

**Author's Note:**

> hanahakis are fun, we need some good wuhluhwuh stories, i don't know if this is good but it's certainly a stories and it's certainly wuhluhwuh

It started when Catherine saw Anne cry for the first time.

It had been a long day and rehearsal was exhausting for everyone. Everyone was snippy with each other, and no one was at their best. When they finally took a break, Catherine watched as Anne slipped quietly offstage and made her way to the dressing rooms.

She frowned in concern and, after politely excusing herself, followed Anne.

What she found was startling to say the least.

Anne was on the floor next the the dressing room door, knees pulled up to her chin, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

Catherine felt an uncomfortable tickle in her throat.

"Anne?" She winced at how hoarse her voice sounded. Anne looked up at her, tears still clinging to her long lashes, eyes red and watery, and took a shuddering breath. 

"Yeah?" The waver in Anne's voice made Catherine want to cry as well.

"What's going on?" She asked softly, sitting next to the crying girl. Anne just shook her head and looked away. Catherine grimaced, "Anne," she said again, this time a little more urgently, "what's going on?" Anne took a shaky breath, then rested her head on Catherine's shoulder, wordlessly taking Catherine's hand in hers and squeezing it softly.

Suddenly Catherine felt unbearably nauseous. Her throat and mouth felt dry. Despite how uncomfortable the feeling was, she refused to move.

That was when Catherine of Aragon realized that she would do anything to keep Anne Boleyn from crying.

An hour later, after rehearsal was over, Catherine rushed to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, coughing and retching in an attempt to rid her body of the unwelcome feeling.

When she could finally take a breath, she leaned back against the wall and stared at the small, red flower bud that was now floating in the toilet bowl, taunting her.

A red tulip.

\---

It was easy to hide at first. It was November already, so cold season was just around the corner. She could excuse her watering eyes and her coughs and wheezes.

She couldn't, however, excuse the sudden abundance of red tulips in the various trash bins around the house. It would have been more inconspicuous if there had been a variety, but unfortunately her heart seemed set on the tulips.

Catherine stopped leaving the flowers in the trash after Anna brought it up at dinner.

("Who keeps buying tulips? Aren't those spring flowers anyway?")

Catherine began volunteering to take out the trash so she could dispose of her flowers in the compost bin outside.

She quickly fell into a rhythm: cough up flowers, collect and hide them, throw them away on Wednesdays (trash day), and continue loving Anne from afar.

Somehow, being around Anne made it hurt more and hurt less at the same time. Her throat always felt scratchy, but her chest wasn't quite so tight. It was a little easier to breathe when Anne's arm was linked in hers as the younger queen pulled the elder along to try to scare the pigeons congregating at the front of the theater.

\---

Some days, Catherine was angry. She was angry at the universe for giving her a disease that constantly reminded her that she was alone. She was angry at Anne for being so goddamn oblivious. She was angry at Henry, she was angry at her parents, she was angry at the kingdom of England, and she was angry at the world, for putting her in such a shitty situation.

But most of all, Catherine was angry at herself for falling in love with someone who could never love her back.

\---

It wasn't too difficult to manage until Anne started appearing everywhere. In her dreams. On the street. In commercials. On billboards. It was like Catherine's heart wanted to constantly remind her of what she would never have.

Once, she and Anne went out to coffee before mass on Sunday. Catherine ordered a simple black coffee, while Anne ordered an iced latte with a ridiculous amount of vanilla syrup. Catherine sniffed at the decision, but struggled to hide a fond smile.

"What's the point of order coffee if it doesn't even taste like coffee?" She raised an eyebrow, elbowing Anne lightly. Anne just smirked in such an Anne-like way that Catherine's throat burned painfully. She took a sip of her drink to try to wash down the stem crawling up her trachea.

They took a table by the window, and Anne nudged Catherine with her foot to get her attention. 

"Look!" Anne pointed at a couple across the street. One of them knelt down on one knee, pulling out a small black box which Catherine could only assume contained an engagement ring. She grunted neutrally at the display of affection, choosing instead to take another sip of her coffee. Anne frowned at her.

"Oh come on, Lina, look at them, they're so in love!" Anne turned back to the window, happily watching as the couple hugged each other and the crowd that had gathered around them applauded.

"Marriage is a scam," Catherine grumbled, picking at her nails and trying hard to ignore the scratching in her throat. Anne's face fell.

"Oh, come off it, you don't really believe that, do you?"

Catherine sighed.

"No, I don't believe it. But these days marriage barely means anything. Divorce rates are astronomical," She stated matter-of-factly. Anne peered at her curiously.

"Do you think you'll get married in this life?" She asked quietly. Catherine looked up at her sharply.

"Um, I don't..." She stammered uncomfortably, "I can't say I've really thought much about it." Anne nodded, seeming to accept this answer.

"I know that I want to," Anne said fiercely, "The question is more if I can find someone who I actually WANT to marry."

At this, Catherine was forced to excuse herself to the bathroom to throw up some tulips.

If Anne noticed the floral scent mixed with vomit when Catherine returned, she didn't say anything.

\---

Catherine didn't realize she was losing control until the flowers changed. They were in the middle of "I Don't Need Your Love" when a sharp pain lanced through her chest. It vaguely reminded her of the one she had felt before she died in her previous life. She frowned, pressing the heel of her hand against her sternum, but there was only so much she could do while still onstage. The pain slowly spread to her stomach, and when she finally started feeling the prickly sensation in her throat, she understood where the pain was coming from. Her eyes began to water.

_Not now. Not now. Please, God, not now._

She took halting, shallow breaths, doing everything in her power to not agitate the flowers tickling her throat.

They transitioned into the introduction to "Six," and per usual, Anne slung her arm around Catherine's shoulders. This was, by far, the worst possible thing Anne could have done in that moment. Catherine broke out into a fit of coughs that she barely managed to hide from the audience. She could feel a petal lodge itself in her throat, obstructing her trachea and causing her to gasp desperately for air. She hid her head behind Anne's back to avoid making a scene as she took deep, gulping breaths. 

She regained control of her breathing just as her verse came up, and she managed to sing through it mostly snag free, albeit with a much tighter smile than usual. Her voice cracked horrifically as they sang the verse, but fortunately it wasn't too noticeable because they sang as a group. Catherine gritted her way through the rest of the song, giving up on attempting to sing and instead just mouthing the words as convincingly as possible. She got several concerned looks from the queens and ladies in waiting, but she ignored them.

_Just get through the Megasix._

The flashing lights and cheering crowd did not help her pounding head and churning stomach. Catherine could feel her resolve waning. She did her best to dance and smile through the pain, through the itching, through the knowledge that Anne was currently dancing rather suggestively with Cathy while she stood to the side. The Megasix came to a close as they all froze in their final poses. It took all of Catherine's willpower to not double-over in a coughing fit. As the rest of the queens took their bows, Catherine stood stock still, afraid that any movement would agitate the vines creeping up her throat. The second the ladies started playing the outro, Catherine sprinted off stage to the nearest bathroom. She shuddered at the feeling of the petals invading her esophagus and promptly leaned over the toilet, retching and spitting out soft pink petals. She frowned slightly. 

The tulips were red. They were always red.

Then another round of violent coughs wracked her body, and soon enough she was gazing forlornly at a large pink flower with too many petals to count.

A camellia.

At that exact moment, to her horror, the sound of the bathroom door knob being turned slashed through her confusion.

"Catherine?" 

Catherine let out a choked sob. The sound of rushed footsteps pounded through her skull. She felt someone grab her and pull her into an embrace. She grasped weakly at the edge of the toilet seat, desperately wishing she had flushed it to hide the pink camellia that would give away her secret. She cried hard. She could feel the ivy wrapping tightly around her heart as she weeped, leaning against the person behind her.

When she finally calmed down enough to stop shaking, she hesitantly turned to see Anna of Cleves staring at her with concern etched deep in her face.

"Catherine," She said softly, clearly unsure of what to say. Catherine wiped her eyes messily and sniffed, then, after a moment's consideration, gestured wordlessly at the lone flower still floating in the toilet. Anna's eyes darted from the flower to Catherine, then back to the flower, then back to Catherine.

"This is where the tulips were coming from?" 

Catherine nodded.

"How long?" Anna clasped Catherine's hand tightly.

"A little over a month."

Anna stayed silent for a while, rubbing the Spaniard's back comfortingly.

"Who is it?" Anna asked quietly, her brow furrowed. Catherine looked at her miserably.

"Anne. It's Anne."

\---


	2. Birds of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes i know how drunk people act i've totally been around people who are under the influence hahahaha....

For a while, it was easier.

Anna helped Catherine hide the flowers. She gave Catherine excuses to leave the room if she could feel an episode coming on. She started taking over trash duty to lower the suspicion that had arisen after Catherine abruptly began insisting on taking the trash out herself. The pink camellias were much larger and more ticklish than the tulips, but they were also more delicate, making it slightly easier to resist the urge to cough them up whenever Anne did something particularly stupid or impulsive.

\---

"Look at that dog!" Anne squealed in delight from the passenger's seat, pointing out the window at a large german shepherd with a safety vest on.

"I can't look at the dog, I'm driving," Catherine said dryly, although she managed to steal a glance at the dog in question anyway. Anne scrunched her face in distaste at Catherine's comment, and somehow, SOMEHOW, she still managed to look utterly adorable. Catherine tried her best to keep her eyes on the road.

"Okay, we're at a stoplight. Now will you look at the dog?" Anne pleaded. Catherine rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hold back a soft chuckle that erupted from her throat, along with the rather unpleasant taste of flowers. She made an exaggerated move to show that she was peering intently at the animal.

"Yes, Anne, the dog is very cute," She admitted begrudgingly. Before Catherine could say anything else, Anne tugged on her blouse.

"I'm gonna go pet it!"

"Wh-- Anne no! I swear, do not leave this car!" Catherine went to lock the door but Anne had already flung it open and burst out of the vehicle, sprinting full tilt towards the poor animal.

Catherine watched in shock, unsure of whether she should chase after Anne or just wait for the impulse to subside and for Anne to return to the car. Unfortunately, the light she was stopped at turned green at that exact moment, dividing Catherine even further on the matter. She was seconds away from leaving Anne in the dust when Anne finally finished petting the dog and whipped back around to look at Catherine. Anne grinned, clearly pleased with the uproar she had caused, and ran back to the car as angry drivers leaned on their horns and swerved around Catherine's van.

It wasn't until Anne was back in the passenger's seat with the door fully closed that Catherine let out the anxious breath she had been holding.

"Please never do that again," Catherine said in a low voice, glancing over at Anne who had a satisfied smirk plaster all over her stupidly cute face.

"No promises, Lina. I do it to get a reaction out of you."

Catherine's cheeks and throat burned simultaneously.

\---

That evening, Catherine relayed the day's events to Anna while they both sat on the latter's bed. Anna had fallen into the rather annoying habit of supporting her gently while also teasing her incessantly.

"I still can't believe that THAT is who you fell in love with," Anna snickered, "what on earth do you see in her?" Catherine smacked her lightly.

"Shut up! It's not like I can control who it is. If I had a choice it definitely would not have been Anne Boleyn."

"You just like her because she's hot," Anna remarked matter-of-factly. Catherine stared at her, scandalized.

"I do not!"

"I literally watched you drool over her the other day during 'Get Down.'"

"Anna!" Catherine smacked her again, blushing profusely before mumbling, "It may or may not be a contributing factor, I'll admit."

Anna's eyes shone with mirth.

"There you go! Doesn't it feel so much better to admit it?"

"No, not really, because I know you'll never let me hear the end of it," Catherine said, rolling her eyes. 

"You're damn right about that one," Anna laughed gleefully, before warbling in a sing-song voice, _"Catherine and Anne, sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n-g!"_

"Anna!" Catherine's eyes widened, lunging at the other queen in an attempt to silence her. Something in her movement must have shifted the flowers inside her, because the second she moved, she felt a camellia erupting from her throat.

She coughed painfully, petals spilling from between her lips. Anna immediately stopped laughing, rubbing Catherine's back gently before running and grabbing a trash bin.

Catherine sucked in a shuddering breath, tears of pain and frustration clinging to her lashes. She could still feel the flowers thick in her throat, but she didn't have to energy to try and cough them up. Instead she lay backwards on Anna's bed, closing her eyes and sighing.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Anna asked gently, and Catherine could heard the sympathy and compassion in her voice. Catherine nodded.

"Yeah," she said, voice cracking on the single syllable. With a mournful sigh, tears began to roll down her cheeks unbidden. Anna sighed as well, and pulled Catherine into a loose embrace.

They didn't move until Catherine was forced to run to the nearest bathroom to throw up more camellias.

\---

One morning, while Catherine nursed a mug of coffee and silently read the newspaper, Anne had approached her.

"Is everything okay?" Anne's voice was laced with concerned, and Catherine looked up in surprise.

"Yes," She replied, "yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?" Anne looked at her forlornly.

"You've been avoiding me."

Catherine blinked.

"Oh. I have?" She frowned, "It wasn't intentional, I'm sorry." Anne shrugged.

"I know it's kind of silly but it's just..." She sighed and scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, "Was it about the dog thing? I really wasn't trying to hurt or offend you or anything, I just thought it'd be funny, but if it bothered you that much then I promise I won't do it again." Catherine's heart clenched and her throat burned at the disappointed look on Anne's face.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," She spoke quickly in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, drinking some of her coffee to clear her agitated throat.

"What is it then? Is everything okay?"

Catherine considered the question for a few moments before answering.

"I've just been super tired lately. I know it sucks to hang out with someone who doesn't match your energy, so I was trying to spare you from that," Catherine lied easily.

Anne nodded, although she seemed unconvinced.

"Okay, well um...let me know when you're feeling better I guess." She shrugged, retreating out of the room.

"Yeah, of course," Catherine smiled genially even as she noticed a small pink petal floating in her coffee mug.

\---

"Hey, I'm gonna go to the store, do you want anything?" Anna tapped Catherine on the shoulder lightly. Catherine glanced over at Anne who was sitting on the kitchen counter, before tilting her head in thought.

"Some cough drops maybe?" She asked softly. Anna smiled.

"Yeah for sure. I'll be back soon," Anna gave her shoulder a squeeze before grabbing keys off the counter and leaving the room. Anne observed Catherine quietly for a few moments.

"I know what's going on with you," Anne stated simply. Catherine looked up at her with barely concealed alarm, terrified of being found out.

"You...you do?" She winced slightly at the evident panic in her voice. Anne laughed.

"Yeah, silly, it's pretty obvious. You're not very good at hiding your feelings." Anne's smile was gentle, although there seemed to be something else behind it. Anger? Distress? Catherine blanched at the thought of Anne's potential disgust at Catherine's apparent love for her.

"Anne, I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." She could feel her eyes begin to water as the damn camellias invaded her esophagus.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Anne's brow furrowed and she scrunched her nose in confusion. Catherine tasted flowers as she quickly reeled in her expression along with her feelings.

"Um...what do you think is going on?" She asked warily. 

"You and Anna?" Anne replied as if it were obvious, "you're dating, right?" Catherine stared at her.

"Excuse me?"

Anne rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, Lina, I've seen you two together all the time, constantly sneaking off, no doubt to make out or something. And you're in the bathroom together a bunch too, and whenever you come back from wherever you go during your make out sessions, you're always red in the face and out of breath. I'd have to be pretty stupid not to notice," Anne remarked idly. Catherine continued to stare, unsure of how to respond.

"Um...well we haven't," she stammered, "uh, we haven't really put a label on it yet," she managed to get out. Anne nodded knowingly.

"I figured as much." She looked so smug that Catherine was almost tempted to tell her the truth right then and there.

Almost.

Instead she smiled tightly.

"Yeah, um...I've...I've got to go," Catherine mumbled, hoping that Anne couldn't smell the flowers on her breath. Without waiting for a reply, she quickly escaped the kitchen and fled to the upstairs bathroom. She barely managed to lock the door before an emerging camellia triggered her gag reflex.

\---

It wasn't until Anne came home late one night, staggering drunk, that Catherine truly understood just how screwed she was.

She was curled up comfortably under a blanket on the couch, watching Schitt's Creek with Jane, who was sitting in the armchair across from her.

There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice. Catherine frowned, glancing at Jane, who shrugged.

She got up slowly, immediately missing the warmth of her blanket, but nevertheless increased her pace as the knocking grew more insistent. She grumbled inaudibly as she opened the door.

There, leaning against the doorframe, dressed in entirely too revealing clothing considering the frigid weather, was Anne Boleyn.

"Lina!" Anne's face lit up and she threw her arms around the taller queen, who stumbled backwards at the sudden force. Anne giggled, before holding Catherine at arms length. "You're preeetty," Anne slurred, and Catherine got a face full of Anne's breath, which smelled distinctly of alcohol.

Ignoring Anne's comment as well as the uncomfortable tickling sensation that was already forming in the back of her throat, Catherine pulled the other woman inside and shut the door behind her.

"Good Lord, okay, sit down here while I get you some water," Catherine guided Anne to a chair before moving into the kitchen. Anne immediately shifted in her chair, swinging her legs over the side and leaning back as far as she could go without falling.

"Jane!" Anne cried gleefully, "Do you see how pretty Lina is? She's so pretty!" Jane smiled wryly.

"Yes, she's very pretty Anne, now please sit straight in your chair before you fall and get a concussion," Jane instructed, standing and walking over to tame the drunk queen.

"I can't sit straight! I can't do anything straight! I'm gay!" Anne declared matter-of-factly. Catherine nearly dropped the glass of water she was holding and Jane looked at Anne in surprise.

"What?" Catherine asked quietly. Anne rolled her eyes.

"Okay, _sorry,_ " Anne made a face, "I'm not gay, I'm bi. But whatever, it doesn't matter, gay is an umbrella term anyway."

"You're bi? As in, bisexual?" Catherine asked fearfully. Anne looked at Catherine reproachfully.

"Yeah, as in bisexual. And you, Lina, of all people, shouldn't have a problem with that." Anne stated pointedly. Jane looked at Catherine in confusion.

"What does she mean by that?" Jane asked quietly. Catherine shook her head.

"Nothing, I'll explain later." She waved Jane away, turning back to Anne, "You are clearly quite drunk, so drink this water and then we're gonna get you to bed so you're not too hungover in the morning, okay?" Anne stood up abruptly, swaying slightly as she did so, and shook her head vehemently.

"I don't wanna go to bed!" She protested childishly. Catherine huffed and moved to push Anne back down into her seat, but despite her drunken stupor, Anne manage to evade her and quickly circled around to the kitchen.

"Anne, please, it's late," Catherine pleaded tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose, anxiety surging as she resisted the urge to clear her obstructed throat of the offending camellias. 

"Okay, fine," Anne pouted, "Don't get upset please, I don't like it when you're upset." She sat down obediently in the chair, taking the glass of water Catherine offered her and downing it in a few gulps.

"Do you think you can go to sleep now?" Catherine asked anxiously. Anne nodded slowly. Catherine sighed in relief, helping Anne stand and leading her to the stairwell. It took several minutes of struggle to get the drunk queen up the stairs, and several times Catherine had to stop and swallow hard so she wouldn't projectile vomit camellias, but eventually they made it to the top, and to Anne's bedroom door.

Anne turned to her, smiling blithely.

"You're pretty." Anne poked Catherine's cheek lightly. Catherine gave her a distasteful look, and it took all of her willpower not to double-over in a coughing fit.

"Go to bed, Anne," She said softly, opening the door and ushering Anne inside. Anne gave her one last drunken smile before closing the door behind her. Catherine sighed, her breath catching roughly in her throat. 

She turned around and headed downstairs again to the kitchen, only to find Jane studying her intently.

Catherine observed her for a few moments.

"Jane, I can explain--"

"Anne is in love with you," Jane interrupted quietly. Catherine looked at her in shock, and despite everything, burst out in laughter.

"No, she's not," She replied easily, even as she nearly choked on flowers at Jane's words.

"Yes, she is," Jane insisted, "She called you pretty, she doesn't want to see you upset, and she did what you wanted because you asked nicely. Anne never does what she's told." Catherine smiled wryly.

"I think it takes more than calling me pretty to consider it love," She replied, grabbing the now empty water glass and placing it in the sink so that she would have an excuse to turn away from Jane to hide her expression of discomfort.

"I've seen other things too. The way she looks at you. How jealous she gets when you spend time with the other queens. The fact that she knows your coffee order by heart and goes out of her way to get it for you every Sunday? If that's not love then I don't know what is."

Catherine let out a strained cough at this. 

"Jane, I promise you, Anne is not in love with me." She barely managed to get the sentence out before she dissolved into a bout of coughs. Her hand flew out to catch the counter, but to no avail. She fell to the floor, grunting in pain when the heels of her palms broke her fall. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, her whole body tensed as she attempted to expel the flowers.

It hurt more than usual. She could feel the stems scraping at her throat, making each cough and breath that much more painful. Her eyes leaked hot tears of shame and anger as she grasped at her neck, waiting for it to be over. She convulsed violently, before finally managing to grasp onto the flower sticking out of her throat with a shaking hand. She tugged on the stubborn plant, finally managing dislodging it, and let it fall limply to the floor.

A rose.

A dark, crimson color.

Catherine felt droplets of blood collect on her lips as she breathed heavily.

She stood up shakily, and tossed the crumpled rose in the trash. She wiped her mouth unceremoniously and drank some water straight from the tap. The cold liquid was both soothing and sharp against her wounded throat.

When she had finally recollected herself, she turned to face Jane again.

Jane's eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Catherine," She whispered desperately, "why didn't you say anything? We could have helped." Catherine smiled sadly.

"There's nothing you can do. Anne doesn't love me."

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i highly suggest looking up the meaning of these flower types and colors! please i worked hard on them :'(


	3. Flowers Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a creepy dude

Catherine ended up having to take time off from the show. Not only were the flowers coming now in more abundance than ever, but the crimson roses did horrors to her throat, and she didn't have enough faith in her singing and acting capabilities to pretend like it didn't hurt just to swallow.

Anna and Jane both covered for her, telling the other queens that it was a severe case of laryngitis. Anna even pretended to contract it for a few days to make it more believable. Jane brought easy-to-swallow meals to her room so she could sneakily take out the rose-filled trash and slip Catherine cough drops and soothing tea. None of them were sure how long the charade would last. Catherine hoped that the flowers would change soon enough, but every morning she woke up with the taste of blood on her tongue, she lost a little more faith in her own recovery.

Anne, as always, was completely oblivious, and complained rather loudly about not being allowed in Catherine's room. She made it so far as the turn the door handle before Anna kicked the back of her knee, effectively bringing her crashing to the ground. The audible thud Catherine heard as Anne fell made a small smile tug at her lips.

A few minutes later she was forced to book it to the bathroom so she could puke roses into the toilet bowl.

\---

Once, Anne did actually manage to infiltrate Catherine's room.

It was her day off and she and Catherine were home alone together. Catherine, who was blissfully unaware of this fact, had left her door open as she read a novel.

Catherine was jolted out of her reverie by a quiet knock. She wipped around from where she was sitting at her desk to find Anne in her doorway.

"Jesus, Anne, you scared me," She rasped, clutching her book to her chest and observing the other woman warily, "What's going on?" Anne grinned playfully, although she fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt.

"What, I can't just visit my sick friend out of the goodness of my heart?" Anne jested. Catherine snorted.

"Considering you know as well as I do that if Jane found you here you'd be murder on the spot? Yeah, doesn't seem too likely. What's going on?" She repeated. Anne hesitated, as if considering what to say, which was truly a once in a lifetime occurrence.

"Um...I know you're sick but...can you help me in the kitchen?" Anne looked down at her feet and blushed crimson, "I tried to make a quesadilla and it didn't go very well and I don't want to make Jane upset by not cleaning it up but I was using the cast iron skillet and I know you're not supposed to wash that and I don't really know what the protocol is so I just wanted to get a more educated opinion." Catherine blinked, then laughed quietly even as the sound grated painfully against her throat. She stood up from her desk chair, shaking her head good-naturedly.

"How on earth do you mess up making a quesadilla?" Catherine chuckled, "It literally has like three ingredients." Anne frowned.

"Three ingredients?"

"Um...yeah?"

Anne looked at her, bewildered

"What's the third ingredient?"

"Butter to keep the tortilla from sticking and to help it cook evenly." Catherine explained, struggling to hold back laughter at Anne's expression.

Anne paled slightly.

"Oh. That makes sense," She winced sheepishly, "I think that's where I went wrong." Catherine snickered.

"Happens to the best of us," She quipped. Anne wrinkled her nose and shoved Catherine lightly.

"Whatever. C'mon, come help me!"

Catherine followed Anne to the kitchen, despite the sharp pain in her throat.

She made sure not to mention Anne's intrusion to Jane or Anna.

\---

One night of particular irritation caused Catherine to lie awake all night in bed, staring at her ceiling.

The combination of not being able to perform, being isolated from the queens, and coughing up roses was taking a toll on her.

Everytime Anna or Jane looked at her, they always had this sorrowful expression hidden behind their eyes. It made everything so much more painful. She wished that everything could just be normal. That she could go back to a time before she ever loved Anne Boleyn.

And what made it worse was the fact that even after all that, the only thing she could think about was Anne. Anne smiling brightly, Anne holding her hand, Anne hugging her, Anne kissing her, Anne, Anne, _Anne_ \--

Catherine sighed and rolled over, ignoring the soreness in her throat.

The creak of her door opening dragged her attention back to the present. Catherine lay still as someone slipped quietly into the room.

At first she was afraid it was Anne attempting to prank her, which really was the last thing she wanted right now, but then car headlights from out the window illuminated the silhouette slightly. 

"Cathy?" Catherine sat up slightly, "Is everything alright, mija?" Cathy didn't answer for a moment, but Catherine caught the faint sound of sniffling. "Come here." Catherine pulled back the blanket and beckoned Cathy forward. Cathy obeyed, shuffling to the bed and curling into her godmother's side. Catherine pretended not to notice the way Cathy shook as she buried her face in the crook of Catherine's neck.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Catherine asked softly. Cathy shook her head, her finger tapping lightly on Catherine's collar bone.

And it seemed so unfair, because this time she hadn't even done anything. She just breathed wrong, and all of a sudden her throat is clenching painfully, trying to coax up the stupid fucking flowers again. She inhaled sharply, before attempting to clear her throat, which only made it worse. She let out a rough cough. Cathy shifted next to her, and a lock of her curly hair brushed up against Catherine's nose, which broke the dam.

"Oh God," Catherine groaned between painful coughs, "Fuck." Cathy flinched at the vulgar word and pulled away from Catherine's embrace.

"Madrina?" Catherine could hear the alarm in Cathy's voice, but she didn't have time to address it. This bouquet of flowers in her chest seemed determined to make her life harder. She stumbled out of bed, accidently slamming her knee into the corner of her desk chair. She gasped in pain, which caused her to inhale petals, which triggered more coughing. By the time Catherine made it over to the light switch, she was sweating and red in the face. She flicked the light on and grabbed the trash bin as soon as she caught sight of it, wheezing and retching pitifully into it. She glanced up briefly at Cathy, who was watching her in horror as she spit out deep purple petals into the bin. She tried to take deep breaths to slow down her pounding heart. She hesitantly checked the contents of the trash bin, and a wave of relief washed over her as she was greeted with a small bundle of purple hyacinths.

Catherine sighed heavily.

"Well, at least they aren't roses anymore," she remarked hoarsely.

"Madrina?" Cathy's voice was small and scared, like that of a child. Catherine looked up at her guiltily, and Cathy's devastated expression broke her heart.

"I'm sorry, mija," Catherine said tiredly, "I'm sorry." Cathy shook her head vehemently.

"Please don't apologize, you haven't done anything wrong," Cathy scrambled off the bed and knelt by her godmother's side. Catherine gave her a watery smile.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Catherine insisted, but once again Cathy shook her head.

"It's...it's Anne, isn't it?" Cathy asked timidly.

"That obvious, huh?" Catherine chuckled.

"No, not really. I'm just observant," Cathy smiled tightly, clutching at Catherine's hand as if her life depended on it.

Catherine sighed, the petals still tickling her throat.

"What are you going to do?" Cathy whispered.

Catherine squeezed her goddaughter's hand gently.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"I think there's a surgery," Cathy responded quietly, "I've read a bit about it." Catherine nodded.

"I found a surgeon that performs it. It's about a thirty minute drive from here."

Cathy hummed.

"You should get it."

"I don't know. It's dangerous."

"Madrina, this disease is just as dangerous, you could die!" Cathy protested. Catherine smiled sadly at her.

"Maybe. But I'm not one to make rash decisions," Catherine snorted, "that's more Anne's department. It's a last resort, nothing more." Cathy frowned, but didn't say anything else for a long while. They sat there together on the floor for quite some time, hands clasped in sorrow and silence.

\---

It was another week before Catherine returned to the show. 

While Anne and Kat, who were both painfully unaware of Catherine's declining health, were over the moon about the first queen returning to rehearsals, Anna, Jane, and Cathy were frustratingly dubious.

Anna had taken to treating her like glass, which would have been annoying from any queen, but was especially annoying from Anna. Catherine usually counted on her to be honest and level-headed, telling Catherine exactly what she needed to hear, even if it was painful. This contrast cause Catherine to lash out a couple times, which only encouraged Anna's coddling. It took several conversations to convince Anna that she was fine, and that her attitude was doing more harm than good.

Jane, who couldn't keep a secret to save her life, completely cut off contact with Anne and Kat, much to the cousins' dismay.

Cathy just glared at Anne. Catherine had to redirect her goddaughter's attention several times because she was genuinely afraid that Anne would explode if Cathy continued.

And of course, as always, Anne was Anne.

Catherine started keeping bouquets of flowers in her dressing room to disguise the scent of the hyacinths.

\---

"Stop making heart eyes at her, it's making me sad," Anna griped, taking a sip of her drink. Catherine blushed, tearing her gaze away from Anne at the bar.

"I am not making heart eyes," She hissed. Anna smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"You're really bad at this. I don't know how she hasn't noticed yet."

"You don't really notice people you're not interested in," Catherine remarked bitterly, choking briefly on a hyacinth and taking a swig of her drink to wash down the bitter taste. She didn't miss the look of concern that flashed behind Anna's eyes.

They sat in silence for a moment, uncomfortably aware of Catherine's predicament.

"Don't look now, someone's playing with fire," Anna muttered, pointing towards the bar where Anne was sitting. Catherine frowned and turned her attention back to Anne, who was now accompanied by a gangly man with curly blonde hair and a permanent sneer etched on his face. He stood next to Anne with a looming presence, clearly attempting to engage her in conversation.

To Anne's credit, she was much more reserved in her refusal than usual. She was smiling politely, but nevertheless, shook her head and gestured elsewhere before pointedly returning her gaze to her drink and taking a sip. The man smiled and placed a hand on Anne's exposed knee. Anne stiffened slightly, but kept her eyes trained on the contents of her glass.

Anna made a disapproving "hmph."

"Do you want to address that, or should I?"

Catherine felt mildly sick as she watched Anne flinch again when the man moved his hand to her shoulder. She stood up abruptly, setting her drink down on the table.

"I'll go talk to him," She responded curtly. Anna laughed.

"Go tear him up. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Catherine snorted.

"That's a pretty low bar."

She stalked over to where Anne was sitting, swallowing harshly to contain her hyacinths. She tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Hey, is something going on here?" Catherine raised her eyebrows stand-offishly. The man turned around, sneering. He looked her up and down, then glanced back at Anne.

"Is this the girlfriend you were describing?"

Catherine nearly stopped breathing as hyacinths crowded her trachea.

Anne cleared her throat, glancing nervously at Catherine.

"Um, yeah, this is my girlfriend, and she had quite a temper, so I really suggest you leave before she does something stupid." The man frowned, looking between Catherine and Anne.

"Very well," he lifted his hands in surrender, "I know when I'm not wanted." He gave Catherine a scathing look before kissing Anne on the cheek, then quickly stood and disappeared into the crowd.

Anne grasped for Catherine's hand in a panic, her eyes wild with fear. She slid off the bar stool and grabbed a fistful of Catherine's jacket.

"Hey, are you okay?" Catherine asked quietly, pulling Anne away from the bar and towards a less crowded area.

"Lina, oh God," Anne choked out, "oh God, oh God, _Lina._ " 

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Catherine hugged Anne desperately, "you're alright." Anne shook her head fervently.

"We need to leave," she pleaded, tugging on the lapels of Catherine's jacket, "Please, Lina, can we leave?"

"Yes, yes of course we can leave," Catherine reassured her softly, slipping off her oversized jacket and wrapping it around Anne's hunched shoulders. The pair hurried outside into the sharp winter air. Catherine ignored her watering eyes as the irritation in her throat increased. Anne took a shaky breath.

"Can we just sit here for a bit please?"

Catherine smiled softly, nearly regurgitating flower petals.

"Of course. Let me just text Anna to let her know where we are."

Anne nodded, sliding to the ground and leaning up against the brick wall behind her. Catherine pulled out her phone, shooting Anna a quick text update before sitting next to Anne, careful to leave adequate space between them. Unfortunately, this attempt was clearly not recognized by Anne who immediately rested her head on Catherine's shoulder, intertwining their fingers. It reminded Catherine of the day she had contracted the disease, where she and Anne sat on the floor together for God knows how long, revelling in the slightly choked silence.

"Your hand is cold," Anne remarked thinly.

"It's winter, Anne." Catherine snorted, "And we're in London. What do you expect?" Anne shrugged. Catherine frowned, taken slightly aback by Anne's lack of retort.

"Are you okay?" She gave Anne's hand a light squeeze, "That was um...a precarious situation in there." Anne hummed.

"Yeah. It's fine." She answered faintly.

"No, it's not." Catherine's eyebrows pinched together on their own accord, "Anne, you of all people should not be okay with what just happened." Anne sighed heavily and sat up. Catherine immediately missed the comforting weight.

"Honestly, I don't really have the energy to be upset about it," Anne responded idly, picking at a loose thread in the hem of her skirt. "It just...it happened. That's it."

Catherine swallowed thickly as the bitter taste of flowers invaded her senses.

"It's okay if it upset you." Catherine said softly. Anne sniffed, swiping at her eyes.

"I just..." She buried her face in the hands, shaking her head, "Something like...like _that_...hasn't really happened in a while. Just a bit of a shock I guess."

"Mm. A shock that men are trash," Catherine mused almost to herself. Anne laughed tearfully.

"Yes, I'm glad you agree." Anne relaxed slightly. They sat in silence again, this time more comfortably. Anne hummed a quiet song, and Catherine watched cars pass by. After a while, curiosity began to itch in the back of her mind.

"Anne," Catherine began hesitantly, "Do you remember when you came home drunk about a month ago?" Anne blinked.

"Um, no, not really. Like, I know it happened but I don't remember much from that night. Why?" She asked anxiously, "Did I do something super embarrassing or inappropriate?

Catherine cleared her throat uncomfortably

"Um, no, not exactly," She paused, carefully considering the decision she was about to make, "You came out to me and Jane."

Anne stiffened slightly.

"Oh."

Catherine glanced at her.

"Obviously I don't have any problem with it, and neither does Jane, I was just curious if you, uh...if you actually meant it."

"What exactly did I say?"

"That you were bisexual."

"Oh."

A pause, then,

"Yeah."

Catherine looked over at Anne.

"Yeah?" She smiled. Anne nodded.

"Yeah."

And then, to Catherine's horror, she choked on a flower petal.

"Ow," She hit her fist against her chest, attempting to dislodge the unwanted intrusion. Anne's face flashed in concern.

"Are you okay?" She scooted closer to Catherine's side, rubbing her back gently, which only made the coughing worse.

"Fine, I'm fine," Catherine wheezed, desperately trying to contain the flowers.

"You're not fine!" Anne protested, "Is it the laryngitis?" Catherine shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. Her face burned in shame, because this was her worst nightmare and it was all happening at once and she couldn't bear to look Anne in the eye.

"I need to get home," She choked out hoarsely, standing shakily. Anne's brow furrowed deeply, standing as well and grabbing Catherine's elbow to stabilize her.

"Do you want me to call an Uber?"

Catherine's first instinct was to refuse. She didn't want to see Anne's reaction to her unrequited love, directed at her, no less.

But Anne's eyes were pleading, and her own throat was burning, and she was so goddamn tired of hiding.

She reluctantly nodded her head, sinking back to the ground so she could focus more on breathing.

Anne whipped out her phone and ordered the Uber as Catherine struggled to keep the hyacinths under control.

Anne knelt on the ground in front of her, coaching her through some breathing exercises. It was a kind gesture, but unfortunately it only exacerbated the sheer volume of flowers bursting from her esophagus.

"Stop, please stop," Catherine gasped, pushing Anne's hands away. She looked up in time to catch Anne's hurt expression before the second queen's face reset to neutral. Anne backed away silently, although she flinched at each of Catherine's coughs.

"The, um...the Uber is just a few minutes away," She informed Catherine quietly.

\---

The car ride was uncomfortable to say the least. Anne sat in the backseat with her, and directed the driver towards their house. Catherine curled up miserably, damning to hell the woman she had fallen in love with for being everything Catherine could ever dream of having. She pretended not to notice the driver's horrified looks he shot at her through the rearview mirror. She also pretended not to notice Anne staring at her the whole car ride.

The second they arrived on their property, Catherine flung the car door open and made a mad dash to the house, not even bothering to thank the driver. She fumbled with her keys for a few moments, before finding the correct one and jamming it forcefully into the lock. She faintly heard the sound of Anne's boots crunching on gravel and the quiet rumble of the engine as the Uber drove away. She slipped into the house, flipping the light switch and immediately running to the kitchen sink, bending over the counter as flowers spilled from between her lips, creating a veritable garden of hyacinths. 

She wished she could disappear. 

She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as hot tears threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. She was painfully aware of Anne's stare trained on her back.

"Catherine?" Anne's voice was full of fear.

Catherine realized after a moment of heavy panting, that Anne never called her Catherine. It was always Lina. Always.

She sighed, letting the tears fall in defeat.

"Anne, I'm sorry--"

But before she could finish, Anne bolted out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens lmao i'm having a grand time here how are y'all doing?


	4. Lovers Come Alive at Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not super happy with this chapter, but i know that if i don't post it now it'll never get done. hopefully the next chapter will be better!

No one talked about it.

No one, not sincere Jane or level-headed Anna or rational Cathy or bold Anne.

And Catherine certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

They all collectively avoided the subject of the hyacinths filling up the bins and the coughing that came from Catherine’s room and the constant smell of flowers and bile in the downstairs bathroom.

Eventually, Kat brought it up at the dinner table.

“So,” the youngest of the six started, pushing a potato chunk around her plate, “I’ve been noticing some…things.”

Catherine didn’t bother to look up from her meal. Jane and Anna exchanged a nervous glance. Anne stayed dutifully silent.

“What might that be?” Cathy prompted quietly. Kat hummed.

“One of you has Hanahaki, don’t you?” Kat responded. Catherine stopped chewing. Anne dropped her fork. Cathy cleared her throat.

“Yes, um,” she glanced carefully at her godmother to gauge her reaction, then turned back to Kat, “Catherine does. I would’ve thought you’d have known about this,” she continued gently.

Kat frowned and shook her head, continuing to play hockey with the potato.

“I was pretty sure you all knew something I didn’t. It just took me a bit to figure out what it was.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” Jane said nervously, “We just didn’t really think it was our place to say.” Kat furrowed her brow.

“You all still treat me like a child,” She responded reproachfully, “I’m sick of it. Don’t you think I’d like to know that a fucking family member is dying?” Catherine flinched at the swear word coming out of Kat’s mouth. Then she sighed.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” she said calmly, “You’re right. You’re an adult, and you deserve to be treated like one. It was my fault for not telling you.” She gave Kat a sorrowful smile. Kat bit her lip, then nodded.

“Okay,” she said in resignation, “Okay.”

Catherine coughed painfully into her napkin, before excusing herself to the bathroom.

\---

Before they knew it, all of the queens had wormed their way into Catherine’s disease maintenance routine.

Realistically, it should have been comforting. She didn’t have to hide anymore.

But with this freedom also came Anna hovering over her when she had a coughing fit, Kat staring at her fearfully, and Anne outright avoiding her.

The last thing she needed at this point was the constant reminder that she was dying.

\---

And of course, it didn’t take long for the fans to take notice as well. Catherine received numerous Instagram messages from curious fans, as well as a rather invasive article which discussed the “unsanitary nature” of their show.

For the most part, it was easy to ignore. There had been plenty of fan theories previously which the queens had been forced to deal with, ranging from Jane being an imposter and not actually the real reincarnated Jane Seymour, to Cathy and Kat being in a romantic relationship.

(To be completely fair, although both Kat and Cathy had fervently denied it, Catherine was suspicious of the nature of their friendship. They spent an inordinate amount of time together, and Kat was one of the few people who would had marginal success in convincing Cathy to go to bed at a reasonable hour.)

Nevertheless, the queens supported Catherine in her wish to keep her disease under wraps, at least until she could figure out exactly what to do. And she was doing a good job of it too, until one particular interview brought it up while they were live.

“Catherine, many fans and viewers have noticed that you seem to be suffering from a long-term illness. How have you managed with the show?” The interviewer’s question was innocent enough, but Catherine could barely focus on giving a reasonable answer with Anne sitting right next to her. She could feel the second queen’s gaze boring into her. She cleared her throat.

“With all due respect, I believe that is my own business,” Catherine replied coolly. The interviewer nodded understandingly and quickly moved on, but Catherine could feel her resolve waver as she attempted to dislodge a flower petal from between her teeth.

She knew that her answer had all but confirmed the fans suspicions. She tried her best to breath evenly through the urge to cough.

Anne’s lingering gaze didn’t help.

\---

Catherine’s condition worsened day by day. The flowers were coming in ever more abundance, and she eventually was forced to go to the doctor to get prescribed an inhaler to help with the constant throat irritation. She began eating less and less, as it became increasingly more painful to swallow as time went on. She dutifully continued performing almost every night, despite her fellow queens’ adamant protests.

Catherine couldn’t bear the idea of losing the show. She had so little of her dignity left, so little of her livelihood. She would keep performing if it killed her.

Unfortunately that seemed to become a more threatening possibility with each passing hour.

\---

On a Thursday, exactly five months after Catherine’s nightmare started, she came down with a high fever.

At first, she thought nothing of it. It was just the classic winter flu.

Then, she began to cough up blood, and all of a sudden Catherine felt the impending doom of mortality looming over her.

Anna panicked, immediately assigning Catherine to bed rest and threatening to call the doctor if she moved. Catherine made sure to roll her eyes as Anna handed her a bowl of soup to show how ridiculous her concern was, despite her own apprehensions.

Unfortunately, Anna then found her in the bathroom ten minutes later, crouched pitifully over the toilet, white anemones (a/n: THE FLOWER GODDAMMIT NOT THE THING THAT NEMO LIVES IN) decorating the floor. It took all of Catherine’s persuasive powers to keep Anna from calling the doctor.

They ended up cancelling the show for the night, as Cathy and Anna both refused to leave the house, and Kat had made herself sick with anxiety. They took shifts watching Catherine, which the eldest queen found more unnerving than helpful. Cathy told her about a story idea she had come up with, Kat taught her about Kantian philosophy, Anna simply stared fretfully, and Jane struggled through several chapters of “One Hundred Years of Solitude” before Catherine assured her that if was alright if they sat in silence.

And Anne.

Anne, as always, was Anne.

She laughed and joked and tried to make Catherine smile, but there was something there that wasn’t quite right.

Somehow, Catherine knew that they would never be friends quite like how they were before her disease.

“Jeez, who died?” Anne snorted, “You look woeful.” Anne sat crisscross in Catherine’s desk chair, spinning herself around in it as a form of entertainment. Catherine glared at her.

“I’m contemplating whether I should write you out of my will,” She snarked, only half-joking by that point. Anne made a face.

“It’s not like you would have left me anything anyway.”

“No, I’m going to give you all my stupid puke-flowers after I die,” Catherine smirked wryly, “A little memento.” Anne frowned.

“If you die,” She said quietly.

“What?” Catherine looked at her, confused.

“ _If_ you die. Not after you die,” Anne corrected, “ _If_ you die.” They held eye contact together for a while.

“Anne…”

“ _If_ you die,” Anne stated again, almost to herself.

Rage boiled up inside Catherine, because how _dare_ Anne pretend she cared? How could Anne have to audacity to be sorry, to whimper and whine about Catherine’s impending doom, when she was the cause of it?

It felt like a slap in the face.

Catherine gave Anne a pointed look.

“Don’t be like that,” she ordered.

“Like what?” Anne looked at her reprovingly.

“You’re not helping, Anne,” Catherine growled, “I don’t care if this is your idea of an act of charity.” She rolled over onto her side, facing away from Anne. It was perhaps crueler than she had meant it to be, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt like a mockery. Like Anne thought this was all a game.

“What are you talking about?” Anne’s voice was part fear, part confusion, “Catherine?”

The Spaniard squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging Anne to leave before she started crying.

“Please,” She sighed, “Please just leave me alone.” There was a lengthy pause.

“Okay,” Anne finally conceded. Catherine didn’t open her eyes until she heard her room door close after Anne.

She shook with silent tears and pulled the covers up over her head. Everything hurt. She wished that she could wake up, and this would all be a dream.

She faintly hear the sound of her door opening and closing again, and after a few moments, the duvet was pulled down from over Catherine’s head to reveal a concerned Jane peering down at her. At seeing Catherine’s tear-streaked face, Jane gave a sorrowful sigh.

“Oh, Catherine,” She whispered softly. That set Catherine off into another bout of silent sobs. Jane climbed into bed with her, pulling Catherine close and stroking her hair. Catherine clung to Jane desperately.

“I don’t—I don’t want to die,” Catherine choked out between sobs, “Jane, please.” She could feel Jane’s body tense beneath her.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jane hushed, “We won’t let that happen. I promise, we won’t let that happen.” Catherine shook her head wordlessly, unable to form the words to express what she was thinking and feeling.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” She gasped for air, turning her facing into the crook of Jane’s neck, “I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can, you can do this, it’s going to be okay,” Jane reassured her, but Catherine could hear the thickness in her voice, the sorrow and the doubt that struck down any comfort she might have received in those words.

It took several minutes for Catherine to recover her breath. She stayed curled into Jane’s side, too exhausted to move or do anything.

“Catherine?” Jane’s voice broke the steady silence. Catherine hummed in response to show she was listening. Jane took a deep breath, “I think we should set up an appointment for the surgery.”

Catherine flinched at Jane’s words.

Getting the surgery felt like she was admitting defeat.

Catherine had managed to hold on to a scrap of home that maybe, maybe Anne loved her back, and just didn’t know it.

Getting the surgery would end that possibility.

Catherine wanted to say no.

Then she sighed.

“Tomorrow,” She said hoarsely, “If I’m not better by tomorrow.” Jane hesitated, then nodded.

“Okay,” She accepted, “Tomorrow.”

The queens’ fears were put to rest when Catherine’s fever broke the next morning.

\---

Many months ago, finding Catherine of Aragon awake at 3:27 AM would have been preposterous.

Unfortunately, as of late, it was becoming a habit.

Frequent trips to the bathroom to regurgitate soft white anemones, and to the kitchen to collect a glass of water for her sore throat caused Catherine’s nightly presence to be much more active.

She sighed heavily, rubbing her face as she made her way back to her room, her mouth still tasting faintly of flowers.

“Ah, what a lovely night for a stroll, yes?” A mocking voice came from the darkness. Catherine nearly jumped out of her skin, spilling some of her water on the floor. She glared at the offending nuisance.

“Anne! Don’t sneak up on my in the dark like that!” She whisper-screeched, backing away from the small puddle of spilled water, and from the reincarnated Tudor queen she had the misfortune of falling in love with.

Anne ignored Catherine’s comment, leaning against the doorframe to her room.

“What are you doing up?” Anne asked accusingly. Catherine scoffed.

“I could ask the same of you,” She responded.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Anne shrugged nonchalantly. Catherine studied her face, carefully noting the faint tear tracks shining off Anne’s cheeks in the darkness.

“Right…” She remarked idly, “I was just getting some water.” The two stared at each other for a moment, both feeling as though something needed to be said, but neither sure of what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Anne blurted out after a painful silence. Catherine looked at her warily.

“What for?” She asked slowly. Anne sighed.

“For…you know, making things weird,” She said sheepishly, “I overreacted. It’s your personal life, and I shouldn’t have any opinion on it. It’s not like you can help it, anyways.”

Catherine blinked, wishing there was more light so she could get a better judgement on Anne’s expression. Then she sighed as well.

“I’m sorry as well. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no no no, not at all,” Anne rushed out, “Again, it’s not something you can control.” Catherine hummed, observing Anne through the inky blackness.

“Is everything alright?” She asked softly. Anne straightened up against the door frame.

“What do you mean?”

Catherine wordlessly (and perhaps against her better judgment) leaned forward and wiped away a lingering tear from Anne’s cheek. Anne flinched slightly under Catherine’s touch.

“Ah,” Anne’s voice was thick, and she swiped at her eyes briefly before batting Catherine's hand away, “I guess I’m not as stealthy as I thought,” she chuckled hollowly.

Catherine tilted her head, flicking the hallway light on to reveal the pale face of Anne Boleyn staring at her. Catherine stared right back, waiting expectantly for an answer. Anne looked down at her feet.

“Just a nightmare,” she said in a small voice, “just a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Catherine asked softly. Anne sniffed, then shook her head. She gazed glassily at Catherine for a long while, as if considering what to say. Catherine resisted the urge to look away.

"Kiss me?" Anne whispered it so quietly, Catherine almost thought she had imagined it. Her eyes widened.

"What?"

"Lina, please," Anne pleaded, "Kiss me."

"Anne, I don’t think--" Catherine started to protest, but before she could react, Anne lunged forward and pressed a kiss of desperation against Catherine's lips.

For a moment, Catherine relaxed. Anne's lips were soft, and tasted faintly of mint. Anne's hand was resting on her shoulder, and Catherine shivered as Anne dug her nails lightly into the skin of her back. It was all so Anne that Catherine could barely think. This was everything she had dreamed of, and for a guilty moment, Catherine allowed herself to revel in the dream of Anne's lips on hers.

And all at once, Catherine came to her senses. She fell backwards, scrambling away from Anne in horror, only then realizing that tears were streaming down Anne's pale face. She stared at the second queen in shock, then in anguish, then in white-hot anger.

"What the fuck, Anne?!" Catherine stumbled away from the other woman, "What’s wrong with you?!"

Anne sat back on her heels, crying silently.

“I’m sorry,” Anne’s voice wavered pitifully, “I’m sorry, I needed to, I needed—” Anne’s words were cut off by a broken sob. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking dangerously.

Catherine continued to stare at her in outrage, anemones crawling up her throat.

"I never pegged you as the cruel type, Anne," She said with venom, "And yet here you are, proving me wrong once again."

And with that, Catherine swept down the hall to her room, slamming the door shut and leaving Anne crying on the floor.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love gay misunderstandings and miscommunications, don't you?


	5. Cry, Laugh, Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i'm going to wake up in the morning and re read this and it's gonna be absolutely incoherent but i need to get this chapter out or i will cry. i have no clue why this one was so hard to write good lord. i promise i will edit this to make it better when i have functioning braincells. good night folks.

Catherine didn’t talk to Anne, and Anne didn’t make any effort to change this.

Catherine honestly couldn’t tell if she was ignoring Anne because she was angry, or because she was embarrassed.

Probably a little of both.

But either way, whenever Catherine made eye contact with Anne, she struggled to tear her gaze away. Thoughts swam through Catherine’s mind of Anne kissing her, of Anne sitting tearily on the hallway floor, of Anne’s helpless words. She swallowed down her anemones.

She didn’t tell anyone about the kiss. Her whole body burned with shame whenever she thought about it, and she couldn’t bear the sympathetic looks she knew she would receive. But she also knew that the other queens could tell something had happened. Anne no longer engaged Catherine in conversation, and Catherine couldn’t force herself to be civil any longer.

\---

“Cathy!” Anne whined, “You can't show up to breakfast in the morning with a hickey and expect us NOT to ask where you got it!”

“I told you already, it’s not a hickey. I burned myself with my straightener.” Cathy replied cooly, although the dark blush apparent on her cheeks, as well as her hair, which was piled up into a messy bun and still very much curly, gave away the truth.

(Kat, who looked positively terrified, was staring resolutely at her scrambled eggs. Catherine almost felt bad for her, except she had an idea of where the ‘burn’ came from, and while she was glad the two were having fun, she certainly did not want to think about _that_ happening with _her_ goddaughter under _her_ roof.)

“Are you in a secret relationship or something?” Anne leaned forward, intrigued, then gasped dramatically, “Are you hooking up?”

Catherine snorted, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sure you know all about that.”

A hurt look passed across Anne’s face before she sneered.

“And I’m sure you know nothing about it,” she hissed angrily.

“That is _enough._ ” It was Kat who spoke, broken out of her interest with her eggs by the altercation. She shot a warning look at Anne, and a disappointed one at Catherine. Catherine huffed, then swept out of the room without another word.

She knew it was a low blow to criticize Anne’s promiscuity. It wasn’t fair, and it was something the second queen was exceedingly self-conscious about. But her anger at Anne still smoldered in the pit of her stomach. It didn’t justify a comment like that, she’ll admit. But it did cloud her better judgement.

She stopped by the bathroom to spit anemones into the trash bin before seeking refuge in her room.

\---

Catherine spent the next few weeks biting back venomous comments at Anne’s expense.

She knew it was unfair. She _knew_ it was borderline cruel. But a writhing, fiery part of her wanted to make Anne suffer. She wanted Anne to feel a fraction of the pain she felt every single day.

Ironically, her soured mood seemed to have encouraged the flowers to come in more abundance. The mild smell of anemones filled nearly the whole house. Catherine didn’t even bother trying to hide them anymore. There wasn’t much point in it, anyway.

\---

“We need to talk,” Cathy stared at Catherine grimly. Catherine started, then raised an eyebrow.

“About?”

Cathy chewed on her lip, then grabbed Catherine’s hand and pulled her into the living room, where she was met with the anxious gazes of Anna and Jane. Catherine narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“What’s all this?”

Jane glanced uncomfortably between Catherine and Cathy.

“Um,” Jane’s pale face flushed pink, “I think we need to revisit the idea of surgery.” Catherine stiffened.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to make decisions about my body,” she remarked tightly. Anna let out an audible breath.

“Catherine, please,” Anna pleaded beseechingly.

(Anna’s voice wavered dangerously in a way that Catherine had only heard twice before, once when they opened the show and performed in front of a live audience for the first time, and once when they had watched a documentary together on animal cruelty. Cathy was still apologizing to this day about suggesting that one.)

Catherine scowled.

“Do you not trust me to handle it?” She asked, exasperated.

“No!”

The outburst came from Cathy. Catherine stared at her goddaughter in shock. Cathy stared back at her defiantly, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears.

“No,” Cathy repeated, voice quivering with emotion, “I don’t trust you to handle it.”

“Excuse me?” Catherine looked at Cathy incredulously.

“You’re running yourself into the ground. Don’t pretend you aren’t; we’ve all noticed,” Cathy hissed angrily. “This disease is killing you, and you’re helping it.”

“Catherine Parr, I do not think it is your place to speak of such things—"

“Is it not?!” Cathy spat in frustration, “Because last time I checked, your death would affect more people than just yourself.”

“Cathy—”

“No, madrina, I need you to understand this: there are five people in this house who love you so fucking much, who can’t imagine what it might be like to live without you.” Cathy’s resolve broke briefly and she let out a choked sob. She clapped a hand over her mouth, breaths coming in gasps as she tried to calm herself down.

It only took her a few moments until she began again.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to get up every morning and watch your family member slowly die before your eyes? Because I do. Every morning I get up and I have to do breathing exercises for 15 minutes so I don’t burst into tears when I see you at the breakfast table. Did you know that Kat sets an alarm for herself halfway through the night to check up on you and make sure you haven’t choked in your sleep? That Anna brings your spare inhaler with her where ever she goes?

“And I know, I know it’s horrible for you too, I can’t imagine what it’s like, but you keep acting as though you’re a martyr. You keep acting like you have everything under control. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you don’t! You don’t have anything under control! You have absolutely no power over your illness, and the more you kid yourself, the closer you are to dying.

“Please, madrina, for once in your life, sacrifice your dignity for your life.” Cathy pleaded hoarsely, “Dying isn’t going to make Anne love you.”

Catherine stared after her, bristling slightly in the thick silence that followed Cathy’s tearful tangent.

Cathy stared forlornly up at her godmother for a few moments, before backing away and fleeing upstairs.

No one dared saying anything.

No one knew what to say.

After a tense minute, Jane cleared her throat.

“We, um, we set up an consult appointment for tomorrow at 11:15.”

Catherine sniffed, then turned around and left the room without responding.

It wasn’t until later, when she was drinking a generous glass of wine, that she noticed the thin red petals of a dahlia floating in her drink.

She swallowed them, along with the rest of the wine, in one gulp.

\---

Anne insisted on accompanying Anna and Catherine to the consult, which of course prompted Kat to join them, who then pulled Cathy into the arrangement (“We need to finish our conversation about _Moby Dick_!”) Jane, not wanting to be left alone at the house to marinate in anxious thoughts, reluctantly followed them out to the car.

After a few minutes of familiar quarrelling over who had to sit in the way back, Jane eventually rolled her eyes and conceded, clambering rather ungracefully over the seat and puffing out her flushed cheeks as Anna laughed unashamedly at the odd maneuver.

Kat, Cathy, and Anne all took the middle row, Cathy getting coerced into the middle seat (as usual). Anna took the driver’s seat and Catherine settled into shotgun.

There was a moment of silence before Anna started the car that sent a pang through Catherine’s heart. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” she said thickly, “I…I don’t think I could have done this without all of you here.”

Murmurs and assurances filled the still air, and Anna reached over to squeeze Catherine’s shoulder.

“Anything for you.”

Then Anna turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the driveway to begin the drive.

\---

They arrived five minutes late, which earned them a scornful look from the receptionist.

When Catherine’s name was finally called, the nurse informed them that only two additional family members could be present in the room during the consult, which quickly catalyzed an argument between the other five. Catherine sighed, rolled her eyes, and firmly stated that Anna would accompany her, and the rest of the queens could wait outside.

(She felt mildly guilty when she caught the hurt expressions on their faces, but it only lasted a moment. She didn’t want Cathy to see her like this, she knew Jane would be nervous around all the medical equipment, Kat was still flustered from her encounter with the bathroom, and Anne was certainly not a viable option.)

The nurse led Catherine and Anna to a private room and handed Catherine a thin gown, instructing her to put it on and leave on her undergarments. Catherine shifted uneasily, but obeyed.

They continued with a standard check-up. They took Catherine’s height and weight, checked her ears, nose, and throat, and had her touch her toes. Anna sat in a hard wooden chair on the sidelines, watching with both amusement and unease.

When they were finally done with the initial check-up, Catherine and Anna were instructed to wait patiently while some paperwork was taken care of. The nurse left the room, and a static silence filled the air.

Catherine’s gaze darted anxiously from one bland wall detail to another. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Anna, knowing that she would be greeted with a sympathetic expression that she desperately did not want to see.

“How are you holding up?” Anna broke the silence. Catherine flinched at the sudden noise, even though Anna’s voice was low and gentle.

“I’m blocking most of it out, to be honest,” She murmured. Anna hummed in response.

“Anything you need?”

Catherine shook her head.

Both Catherine and Anna flinched at a sharp knock at the door.

“This is Dr. Rede, may I come in?”

“Yeah, she’s got clothes on,” Anna called through the door, earning a light smack of reprimand from Catherine. Dr. Rede chuckled as she stepped into the room.

Dr. Rede couldn’t have been much taller than Catherine herself, with three long, dark braids lying neatly down her back. She had a prominent nose and a low brow which made her look quite refined, softened slightly by deeply etched smile lines and kind eyes.

“Let us get to business, shall we?” She gave Catherine a sad, knowing glance. “You’re here for Hanahaki, correct?” Catherine nodded.

“Yes ma’am.”

“How long ago did the flowers start?”

“It’ll be six months next Tuesday,” Catherine replied stiffly.

“And I believe it is safe to assume that you are the afflicted party?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Dr. Rede hummed in thought, then nodded at Anna.

“And you are the root?”

Anna started, then shook her head.

“No. One of our other housemates is.”

“Ah, I see. So you live with the root?” Dr. Rede’s voice was layered with both curiosity and apprehension.

“Yes,” Catherine could feel her chest tightening. Dr. Rede inhaled deeply.

“How have you been feeling?” She slowly sank into the rolling chair by the computer as she asked this, starting up the device.

“Pretty awful,” Catherine responded in a monotone voice.

“That’s understandable,” Dr. Rede flashed both of them a quick smile before continuing, “I’m going to list off some symptoms. If you could tell me whether you’ve experienced each of them in the past 48 hours, I’ll be able to get a sense of how far along the disease has progressed. Is that alright?”

Catherine felt a lump in her throat.

“Yes. Yes, that’s alright.”

“Okay. Dry and itchy throat and mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Chest, lung, and stomach pains?”

“Yes.”

“Upset stomach?”

“Yes.”

“Regurgitation of flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Difficulty breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Fatigue?”

“Yes.”

“Fever?”

“Not within the past 48 hours, no.”

“Inability to cry, urinate, salivate, or perspire?”

“Um…no?”

“Any trouble keeping food or liquid down?”

“Not much. Nothing that isn’t caused by throat irritation from the flowers.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Dr. Rede tapped her pencil thoughtfully. “How often do the flowers come?” Catherine cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Um…I usually have an episode every couple hours. Sometimes more, if I’m in close or extended contact with her. With, uh, the root.” Catherine corrected herself.

“Right. Is the root aware of your situation?”

Catherine hesitated, fear flashing through her for a moment and the thought of having to recount the kiss she and Anne had shared.

“Um,” she glanced distractedly at Anna, “Yes, she is aware.”

“And no luck, I assume, since you’re here?”

Catherine tilted her head.

“No luck?” She repeated, confused.

“She isn’t compliant?” Dr. Rede clarified. Catherine frowned.

“Well, she isn’t in love with me, if that’s what you mean.”

Dr. Rede shook her head.

“The root doesn’t have to be in love with the victim. The disease can also be cured if the root _grows_ to love the victim.”

Catherine squirmed uncomfortably.

“Oh.”

So it wasn’t just that Anne didn’t love her, but that Anne was unwilling to love her.

That thought stung viciously.

She cleared her throat and inhaled slowly.

“I was unaware of the intricacies of how the disease worked,” Catherine answered quietly. Her cheeks began to heat up in shame. Dr. Rede simply smiled softly, then turned to Anna.

“Is it alright if I speak with your friend alone?”

Anna looked taken aback, then shot a glance at Catherine.

“I don’t know—”

“Yes, it’s alright,” Catherine waved a hand at Anna, “It’s alright, Anna.” Anna hesitated, then nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be outside if you need me.” She gave Catherine’s hand a quick squeeze, before exiting the room. Dr. Rede turned back to Catherine.

“Tell me about her,” she ordered, glancing down at her clipboard. Catherine started.

“What?”

“Tell me about the root. The girl you’re in love with.”

“Why?”

Dr. Rede smiled sadly.

“This process is never fun. But you’ve contracted the disease because you love someone so dearly, so beautifully, that your body doesn’t want to live in a world where that person does not love you back. It’s morbid and tragic. Based on what I’ve learned about your case so far, you are not in for a smooth ride. So tell me about the person you love, and I will listen.”

Catherine stared at the doctor, aghast. Then she slumped against the wall in defeat.

“She’s…annoying.”

Dr. Rede let out a barking laugh.

“Is that so?” The crinkles around her eyes deepened with mirth. Catherine huffed.

“Yes. She’s annoying and by all my general standards she’s the type of person I would never want to interact with, let alone be in love with. And yet here I sit, in your office, deeply, madly, stupidly in love, and coughing up flowers for her.”

“And yet, here you sit,” Dr. Rede agreed softly, gesturing for her to continue.

“She’s wicked smart, too smart for her own good, really. And she’s fierce. That’s really the only way to describe it. It’s like she’s determined to start an argument about something or other with everyone she meets. It’s insufferable.” Catherine groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Dr. Rede chuckled.

“Yes, there do seem to be some people who don’t understand the concept of peace.”

“Indeed,” Catherine sighed, “and she is certainly one of them.”

“May I ask her name?”

Catherine sucked in a breath.

“Anne. Her name is Anne.”

\---

It was nearly an hour before Catherine and Anna returned to the waiting room to check out. The rest of the queens had retreated to the car, not wanting to take up too much space away from other patients.

Catherine shivered slightly as she signed the final paperwork.

It felt like she was signing away her love.

She sighed, then turned away from the receptionist’s desk and linked her elbow with Anna’s.

“Let’s go,” she said resignedly. Anna unlinked their elbows and wrapped a strong arm around Catherine’s weary shoulder.

“You awfully brave, you know that, right?” Anna said in a hushed voice as they walked out of the clinic. Catherine rolled her eyes and swallowed hard, holding back her tears that she had been avoiding for the last hour.

“If you say something like that again, I will clock you,” she warned shakily. Anna laughed.

“You’re the strongest person I know. This is so hard. I can’t imagine what it’s like. You _are_ brave. _So fucking brave_. Clock me if you’d like – I’m simply speaking the truth.” Anna’s tone was serious, but there was a familiar twinkle in her eye that made Catherine relax.

“Let’s go,” Catherine insisted, pulling Anna towards the car.

\---

The drive home was mostly silent, save for a few brief, muted conversations between Kat and Cathy.

Nobody asked Catherine or Anna how the consult went, which Catherine was honestly grateful for.

She wasn’t quite sure how it went either.

They finally arrived home, and filed indoors. Cathy immediately went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Anna turned the television on and flicked through the channels briefly before finding a calming documentary that was being broadcast about Kane toads.

(A/N: This documentary is a real thing. It is very entertaining and free, and I highly suggest you watch it. It is literally just about Kane toads. That’s it. That’s the whole documentary. It’s on YouTube, go check it out. It even has Turkish subtitles.)

Catherine slumped onto the couch, closing her eyes in exhaustion and containing a small cough. She felt the couch dip slightly, and cracked an eye open to see Kat sitting primly next to her. Kat shot her a hopeful smile, which Catherine returned easily, before opening her arms to invite the younger queen in. Kat obliged happily, snaking her arms around Catherine’s torso and pressing her face into Catherine’s sweater.

Anne observed them silently for a moment, before leaving the room, only to return moments later with Catherine’s favorite blanket. She averted her gaze as she approached the pair and laid the blanket gently over their huddled forms. Catherine made a point to turn her head towards Kat and close her eyes.

Jane took her favorite armchair, Anna stood by the door, and Anne sat on the edge of the kitchen counter. Usually someone would make a point to reprimand the green queen for this, (“Anne, get your ass off of the counter! That’s where we prepare our food!” “My ass is not only very clean, but also clothed. I sit where I want.” “Get off the counter before I cook you and serve you for dinner.”) but no one seemed in the mood to bring it up.

“Tea’s ready for anyone who wants some,” Cathy called quietly from across the room.

“Could you get me some, mija?” Catherine asked, not bothering to open her eyes.

“Of course.”

There was some rustling as the queens got resituated. Cathy handed Catherine a hot mug of mint tea, which Catherine accepted gratefully, quickly wrapping her palms around the warm ceramic.

“So?” Kat’s normally bright voice was rather strained.

“Hmm?” Catherine sipped her tea absentmindedly.

“So, what the news from the doctor?” Cathy prompted. Catherine sighed and opened her tired eyes.

“Ah.” Catherine remained quiet for several more moments, sipping her tea calmly. When she finally began to speak again, she was sure to keep her voice steady. “Dr. Rede said I’m certainly eligible for the surgery. She said that they would recommend commencing the operation within the next six months, preferably sooner before symptoms get worse.” Jane, Anna, and Kat all nodded in understanding while Cathy just gazed at her analytically.

“So…is that good? Or bad?” Anne asked timidly, raising her hand in question. Catherine laughed humorlessly.

“I don’t quite know. Dr. Rede suggested we schedule another consult before planning the surgery.”

Jane sat forward anxiously, gripping at the rests of her armchair.

“And you are going to go, right?” She asked fretfully, “You’re going to schedule another consult?” Catherine sighed.

“Yes, I already scheduled another one for next month. And I’ll call in if anything drastic happens,” She added hastily as Cathy opened her mouth to argue. Jane nodded.

“Okay, okay, good,” Jane glanced around the room at the six anxious figures, “Okay. Good. Good.”

Catherine truly did not have the energy to disagree.

\---

Later that night, when Catherine was finally about to fall into a fitful state of rest, a sharp knock at her door startled her awake.

“Yes?” She called hoarsely, flicking her lamplight on.

The door cracked open, and Anne poked her head through.

“Can we talk?” She asked softly.

“Would you please go bother someone else?” Catherine groused, rolling over and pulling her blankets up to her neck.

“No, this is actually important,” Anne’s voice was quiet but firm. Catherine exhaled impatiently, letting a hand fall carelessly against her forehead. She pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Okay, out with it then,” she waved her hand dismissively. Anne slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Catherine watched as she made her way across the room until she was standing directly in front of Catherine.

Anne sucked in a deep breath, like she was preparing herself to do something particularly onerous.

“I wanted to tell you that I am very sorry for kissing you.” Anne looked her dead in the eyes, genuine sincerety thick in her tone, “That was wrong of me. You didn’t ask for it, and you didn’t consent to it, and it was inappropriate given the currect, uhm…situation.” Anne finished awkwardly, folding her hands in a very un-Anne-like manner.

Catherine studied her for several long moments, then sighed in resignation.

“Thank you for apologizing. I forgive you.”

Anne blinked.

“Wait, really? It’s okay if you don’t, you don’t have to forgive me, you’re not obligated to,” she rambled uncomfortably, but Catherine just rolled her eyes and raise a silencing hand.

“It’s fine, Anne. We all do stupid stuff. I’m just glad you know that it was wrong of you to do.”

Anne ducked her head shamefully.

“I…yes,” she responded meekly.

They stayed frozen there for what felt like an eternity, each queen simply observing the other.

“Why would you kiss me?” Catherine broke the silence softly. Anne flinched.

“What?”

“Why would you kiss me? How…how you could do that to me?”

Anne’s face twisted in anguish, and for a moment, Catherine thought she would burst into tears. But then, Anne just sighed, and buried her face in her hands.

“I guess…” Anne mumbled, “I guess I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss you.” She shrugged. “I’ve kind of always wanted to. Since we came back, you know? I was beginning to think I might never get the chance.”

Catherine scowled.

“So what? It was just for kicks, then?” She snapped, “Do you have any idea how selfish that is?” Anne shrank back.

“Catherine, that’s not—”

“It’s all fun and games with you, isn’t it?” Catherine hissed, glaring at Anne furiously, “You don’t care about anyone else’s dignity or feelings, you just go around doing whatever you want, and you expect everyone to just accept it.” Catherine closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, clearing her throat of dahlias. She needed to keep her composure.

“That’s not fair—” Anne started, but Catherine interrupted her.

“No, Anne, you know what’s not fucking fair?” She slid to the edge of the bed, standing and taking several strides forward, “It’s not fucking fair that I have a fictional disease that is killing me and taking away my second chance at life, and it’s not fair that I’ve fallen in love with you, and you will never love me back, and it’s not fair that you seem to think this is some sort of joke, and it’s definitely not fair that you also think it’s funny to play with my feelings and kiss me ‘just because you feel like it!’” Catherine’s chest heaved. She let out a choked scream, pounding her fist against the mattress. She felt so tired and angry and sad and she just wanted to fall asleep and have it all be over because she couldn’t bear another second of the anguish, and still, all she could think about was Anne, Anne’s voice, Anne’s reaction, Anne’s tears, Anne’s--

“What?” Anne whispered, shock evident both on her face and in her voice.

“What, do you want me to spell it out for you?” Catherine croaked sarcastically. Anne shook her head.

“No, not that,” Anne’s voice wavered, “ _I’m_ the reason you have Hanahaki?”

Catherine gave her a withering look of disbelief.

“Anne, there’s no way you’re that thick.”

Anne looked at her in horror.

“You’re in love with me?”

Catherine rolled her eyes, then sighed. Any anger she had previously had left her, replaced only with exhaustion.

“The fact that you’ve managed to live this long is a fucking miracle,” She muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I thought that much was obvious by this point.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Well I wasn’t inclined to believe it at first either, but here we are.”

“No, that’s not…that’s literally not possible.”

Catherine wrinkled her nose distastefully.

“And why is it not possible?” She huffed in frustration, already tired of this conversation.

“Because _I’m_ in love with _you_.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment i swear i'm so motivated to write this story but i'm feeling real shit about being slow with chapters


	6. We Will Smile to End Each Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of a filler chapter but also not really a filler chapter bc stuff does happen but it's just not a lot of stuff and it's shorter than it usually is

Catherine’s hands were shaking and her throat was sore and it was too late, far too late in the evening to be dealing with these kinds of emotions.

She was dreaming, she must be dreaming, because at this point it was just straight up cruel.

Catherine opened her mouth to say the words that she didn’t have, and flowers came flowing out. She fell to her knees, clutching at her chest, her ribs, her stomach, wishing for the burning sensation to stop so she could take a minute to process what Anne had just said.

A trash bin was thrust rather unceremoniously beneath her hunched figure, and with a brief breath, Catherine glanced up to see Anne’s pale, frightened face staring back at her. She bent her head back down and spat petals into the waste bin.

“Can you grab the water bottle on the desk please?” Catherine rasped, keeping her head bowed. Anne scrambled away quickly, returning seconds later with the aforementioned water bottle. Catherine accepted it gratefully, and took a long, slow swig.

She inhaled as steadily as she could, given the circumstances.

She coughed weakly, and spat out more petals.

After a long pause, she began to speak again.

“Um…I’m afraid I don’t know quite what to say,” she started, her voice wavering ever so slightly. Anne gave a helpless little sigh.

“I don’t either.”

Catherine’s gaze snapped up to Anne’s face, still deathly pale, illuminated only partially by the lamplight.

“You love me?” She couldn’t help but ask it in rhetoric. Anne looked at her imploringly, hands clasped together in a desperate plea.

“Yes. Perhaps more than anything else in this world,” she responded in a hushed voice. Catherine recoiled slightly.

“Please, Anne, spare me your flowery language,” she replied sharply, wincing at the irony of her words, “I need the plain truth.” Anne started forward, taking one of Catherine’s shaking hands in her own trembling ones.

“That is the plain truth,” Anne insisted, tears welling up in her eyes, “I love you in a way that even I don’t fully understand.” Catherine’s jaw tightened, and she pulled her hand back.

“The disease says otherwise,” she growled, “I wouldn’t be coughing up flowers if you loved me back.” Anne shrugged helplessly, reaching again for Catherine’s hand but stopping herself.

“Is it really so hard to believe that I love you?”

“Yes,” Catherine’s response was clipped, “You’ve hated me from the second you met me. Why should I believe it’s any different now?” Anne stared at her in astonishment and sat back on her heels.

“So what, have the past two and a half years meant nothing to you?” Anne asked incredulously.

“It doesn’t matter what they mean to me,” Catherine hissed, “I am tired…I’m tired—” Catherine’s voice failed her and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped. Immediately Anne’s arms enveloped her tightly, and Catherine didn’t resist.

“I’m sorry,” Anne rocked them back and forth, “I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry.” Catherine gripped Anne’s wrist like a vice, the ridge of her brow pressed against Anne’s bare collarbone. Small red petals slipped between her lips, fluttering gracefully down into Anne’s lap like some kind of sick omen.

“I can’t,” Catherine choked out, “I can’t, I can’t—!”

“It’s okay,” Anne hushed, “I promise, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Catherine took a shuddering breath, dahlias still tickling her throat. She looked up and found Anne’s face mere inches away from her. Anne’s eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

“You promise?” Catherine wanted so desperately to believe it. Anne gave her a watery smile and nodded.

“I promise.”

Catherine let out a shuddering sigh.

Then she leaned forward and captured Anne’s lips in a soft kiss.

It was nothing like she had expected. It was warm, in her cheeks and her heart and her lips, and her heart in turn felt like it was beating out of her chest. Anne’s hands drifted up to cup Catherine’s face, and Catherine flinched at the unexpected contact, pulling away slightly.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “Your hands are cold.” Anne let out a little puff of air, her eyes still half closed. She let her hands fall down to rest on Catherine’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so…I’m so sorry,” Anne’s voice cracked and she let her head fall forward in defeat. Catherine twisted the material of Anne’s nightshirt between her fingers.

“What do you have to be sorry about? It takes two to tango.”

Anne laughed but there wasn’t much brightness in it.

“I’m sorry that I fucked this all up,” Anne sniffed, “God, to think that you were dying at my expense?” Anne looked up at Catherine with glassy eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” Catherine responded softly, “That night when we took the Uber and you saw me throw up flowers in the sink. You ran. I thought you knew. Why else would you have run?”

“’Cause I was scared,” Anne replied quietly, wiping her eyes.

“Why on earth were you scared?” Catherine asked, bewildered. Anne sighed and sniffed again.

“I didn’t want to think about you being in love with anyone. Especially in such a powerful way. I knew…or, I thought I knew, that there was no way you could love me like that. And…” Anne trailed off for a long moment, “I could handle that. But I didn’t want to imagine you in love with someone else. So I ran.”

Catherine stared at Anne with furrowed brows.

“That is the stupidest reasoning I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” she stated in exasperation, “and that really is saying something.” She pulled Anne’s hands down from her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. You must have thought I was being an ass for no reason.”

Anne shrugged.

“I mean, you were fighting a deadly illness, I certainly wasn’t going to criticize you for being a little snappy.”

“It was more than a little.”

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, that was very polite of you.”

Anne grinned weakly.

“I guess so.”

Catherine smiled softly, squeezing Anne’s hands again.

“Is this…is this all okay?” She asked it hesitantly, afraid of the answer. Anne’s mouth curled into a small smile.

“It’s so okay,” she nodded, bringing her hands up to clutch Catherine’s face again, “I love you so much.” Catherine swallowed hard.

“I must be dreaming.”

“You aren’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Those were the last words whispered against warm lips and soft breaths.

\---

Catherine woke up to sunlight streaming through her curtains and a warm body pressed against her side. For a moment she lay there, content to keep her eyes closed and enjoy the comfort of her bed and Anne.

And then, _Anne._

Catherine scrambled out of bed, nearly falling flat on her ass as her ankles got tangled in the sheets. She stood back, staring with wide eyes as the now stirring figure of Anne Boleyn beneath the covers.

Anne rolled over, facing Catherine’s shocked figure, looming over the bed and vibrating with anxiety.

“G’morning,” Anne mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Catherine stared at her some more.

“Good morning,” she replied in a tone much higher than usual. Then she doubled over and coughed harshly, spewing tiny white flowers all over the carpet. Anne immediately sat up, alarmed and perturbed.

“What the fuck?” Anne glanced between the flowers and Catherine’s pale face.

“I don’t know,” Catherine said helplessly. She realized, with appropriate irony, that the delicate white flowers were none other than Queen Anne’s Lace. Her jaw tighten and she fixed Anne with a withering stare.

“Anne, please tell you aren’t that cruel,” she pleaded. Anne’s brow furrowed deeply.

“What do you mean?”

Catherine bit her lip to hold back the tears, and gave Anne a long hard look.

Anne flinched and recoiled, a deep look of hurt and dismay crossing her face.

“Lina, I would never! I would never lie about something like that!”

“Then why—” Catherine cut herself off with a gasping sob. Anne enveloped her in her arms.

“I don’t know,” she breathed hastily, “I don’t know why, I’m sorry.”

Catherine sucked in deep, shuddering breaths.

“I don’t understand,” she choked out, “I don’t understand. I just want to get rid of this.”

“I know,” Anne rubbed her back soothingly, “God, I know. I’m sorry.” Catherine clung to Anne’s arms, steadying her breaths with difficulty. Faintly, she heard footsteps rushing up the staircase.

A sharp knock caused Catherine to jump. Anne pressed a light kiss to Catherine’s temple.

“I’ll get it,” she whispered, sliding off the bed and opening the door to reveal a concerned Cathy and Anna. Anna quirked an eyebrow.

“We heard coughing, we were just checking—” Anna’s words were interrupted by Cathy, whose face quickly screwed up in fury. She lunged forward and shoved Anne to the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Haven’t you done enough?!” Cathy growled to the cowering Anne.

“I don’t understand,” Anne tried to protest, but Cathy gave her a withering look and pointed at the Queen Anne’s Lace strewn across the carpet by the bed.

“Don’t you know when you’re not wanted?” Cathy hissed. Anne stared at her in shock, and shrank back.

“That is enough of that.” Catherine’s voice, despite her abused throat, was steady and firm, “Cathy, Anna, thank you for your concern but I am fine. Would you please give me and Anne some privacy?”

Cathy scowled, narrowed her eyes, and glanced suspiciously between the two woman, but before any more trouble could be caused, Anna tugged lightly on Cathy’s sleeve.

“Come on, Cath,” Anna coerced gently, “Let’s go downstairs. Kat’s making eggs.” Cathy hesitated, but relented after a few moments and retreated out of the room.

Once the door shut, Catherine sunk to the ground with exhaustion and buried her face in her hands. Anne crawled over to her, taking Catherine’s hands in her own.

“Are you okay?” Anne asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Catherine responded absently, letting out a shuddering sigh. Then she looked up to meet Anne’s eyes. “You love me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything,” Anne murmured. Catherine gave a small laugh and sniffed.

“I don’t know why the flowers haven’t stopped,” Catherine sighed, squeezing Anne’s hands tightly.

“Is there…” Anne hesitated, “is there any chance that I…that I’m _not_ the root?” Catherine shook her head.

“It’s you.”

Anne’s shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got to stop apologizing.”

“I don’t know what else to say. This is all so shitty.”

Catherine chuckled lightly at that.

“It’s less shitty with you,” she whispered. Anne wrinkled her nose.

“Ew. That’s gay,” Anne smirked, and Catherine smacked her on the arm. Anne giggled, pulling Catherine closer. “Kiss me?”

“Ew. That’s gay,” Catherine retorted. Anne smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness that made Catherine tilt her head questioningly. “What are you thinking?”

Anne’s brows knit together.

“You do believe me, don’t you? When I say that I love you?” Anne’s voice was gentle and hesitant. “What if the disease depends on belief, not truth?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” Catherine replied, head cocked to the side.

“You got the disease because you thought I didn’t love you,” Anne explained, “But now that’s been proved incorrect. And even though you know that I love you back, you’re still coughing up flowers. So maybe…” Anne winced and cleared her throat, but Catherine nodded.

“Maybe I’m coughing up flowers because I don’t believe you love me back.” Catherine finished for her. Anne winced again and nodded. Catherine sighed and tried to let some of the tension in her body release.

“Can we discuss this later?” She looked Anne in the eyes.

“Lina, I don’t think—”

“Please?” Catherine grasped Anne’s hands tightly, “I’m happy right now and I want to stay that way.” Anne hesitated, then sighed.

“Of course. Of course, we can discuss it later,” Anne relented, standing and walking over to the flowers still strewn on the carpet. “I’ll clean this up. You go downstairs and get breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” Catherine smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while. She kissed Anne knuckles softly, then let her hand fall and retreated out of the room, ready to face the noise and clamor coming from the kitchen.

\---

It was a bright morning.

Sunlight stream merrily through the windows, filling the kitchen with a lovely golden glow. Cheerful music played from a portable speaker that was balanced precariously on a stack of books to improve the reach of sound. Kat was singing along to the words as she poked at the heap of scrambled eggs in the frying pan. Cathy was manning the toaster, perhaps more intensely than necessary, and chatting with Jane, who was fiddling with the coffee machine. Anna sat at the kitchen table with a mug and a book.

Catherine observed the tranquility with content pleasure.

“Good morning,” she addressed the room. Kat’s head snapped up to look at her from the stove, and smiled warmly.

“Good morning!” Kat chirped. Jane sent her a small smile, while Anna mumbled a quick “mornin’” before returning to her book. Cathy sent Catherine a nervous glance, because making her way over from the toaster.

Catherine began steeling herself for a hard conversation, but Cathy spoke first.

“I’m sorry for…you know,” Cathy said in a hushed voice, twisting her hands together nervously, “I got upset and blew up and well…you don’t need me to fight your battles. And anyway,” Cathy added hastily, “I didn’t react very maturely. I’m sorry, I can only imagine my attitude keeps making this harder.” Catherine chuckled lightly and shook her head.

“Mija, it’s okay, I understand. This is hard on all of us. But I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Catherine gave her goddaughter a pointed look. Cathy shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, I know,” she huffed. Catherine smiled and enveloped Cathy in a hug.

“Thank you.”

Catherine released Cathy from the hug and strode over to where Jane was standing by the coffee maker.

“Got a cup to spare?”

Jane smiled and pushed a full mug across the counter.

“I made it how you like it,” Jane explained softly.

“Thank you,” Catherine took the mug and moved to leave, but Jane caught her by the arm.

“How are you feeling?” Jane asked anxiously. Catherine gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m feeling quite well,” she responded, continuing after seeing Jane’s suspicious look, “Really, Jane, I am. I slept well last night, and it’s been a good morning.” Jane nodded reluctantly and let her go.

Catherine sat down at the table across from Anna. Anna put her book down as Catherine took a long sip from her mug.

“I’m going for groceries today, do you need anything from the pharmacy?”

Catherine tilted her head in thought, before shaking her head decisively.

“No, I’m alright, thank you though.”

At that moment, Anne’s footsteps could be heard descending the staircase. Catherine turned her head expectantly to watch as Anne entered the room, cheeks flushed slightly, her hair tousled from her rushed journey.

“Good morning,” Kat greeted Anne with a small wave.

“Morning,” Anne replied, moving over to the table and sitting beside Catherine. Anna looked up sharply, surprise written clear on her face. She shot Catherine a question look, one which Catherine pointedly ignored.

Catherine let out a content sigh when Anne carefully laced her fingers through her own underneath the table.

“Is anybody off tonight?” Anne asked curiously, snatching Catherine’s mug out of her hand and taking a sip. Catherine rolled her eyes.

“Give me my coffee back,” she demanded, but there was mirth evident in her voice.

“No,” Anne stuck out her tongue, “What’s yours is mine.” Catherine huffed.

“What if I backwash?” Catherine retorted, “For all you know, you could be drinking my spit.” Anne snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Your tongue was in my mouth earlier this morning, I don’t think drinking your spit is a concern at this point,” Anne replied wryly, taking another sip of the stolen coffee.

Anna looked up sharply and dropped her book, and the kitchen was suddenly thick with a charged silence.

Anne glanced at Catherine guiltily. Catherine in turn pursed her lips, resisting the urge to laugh at the expression on the other four queen’s faces. She cleared her throat and took the mug out of Anne’s hands, hiding an amused smile as she took a long swig.

“Cathy, love, you’re letting the toast burn,” Catherine remarked absently. Cathy flushed and leapt forward to retrieve the toast which was now blackened and burnt.

“Anyways, nobody answered my question,” Anne insisted, “Is anybody off tonight?”

“I am,” Kat replied weakly, still staring aghast at the pair.

“Um, so…so I take it your, um, _issue_ has been resolved, then?” Jane stammered.

Catherine shrugged.

“Something like that,” she responded wryly, taking another sip of coffee as Anne lay her head on Catherine’s shoulder.

“Anne, would you like your own coffee?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself that i would get more writing done after finals and then i did NOT do that so whoopsie! my bad


	7. Look on in Awe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this chapter is emotionally angsty and there some vomiting so beware.
> 
> i have been having A TIME. college apps have kinda spun me around and shoved me over, but i'm getting back on track.
> 
> typos are likely abundant but that is OK the bar at this point is pretty low for me i don't have the energy to spell check

It got better. It was easier to breathe, easier to swallow, easier to stare at Anne without a weight of shame in her stomach.

There was something embarrassingly intimate about Anne loving her.

Catherine was afraid she would never quite comprehend it.

Anne’s hands were warm, her skin smooth, her eyes sharp. Her ears turned red with cold and her knuckles white with anger.

“I love you,” Anne held Catherine’s hands in her own, staring at Catherine in the eyes, her voice full of sincerity. Catherine smiled even as she could feel the Queen Anne’s Lace climbing up her throat.

“I love you too,” she replied, capturing Anne’s lips on hers and squeezing her hands tightly.

“Do you believe me?” Anne asked breathlessly between kisses.

“I want to,” Catherine responded, bringing a hand up to cup Anne’s cheek. Anne sighed into the kiss.

“I love you,” she said with conviction. Catherine could hear the anger, the sorrow, the passion in her voice. She smiled sadly against Anne’s lips.

“I love you too.”

\---

“I have a present for you,” Anne called from across the room. Catherine looked up and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Should I be concerned?” she asked warily, setting down her book with the spine up, even though she knew that if Cathy saw, she would scream about how it would ruin the binding.

(Catherine would reluctantly admit that sometimes she did things to purposely annoy the other queens. Never anything serious that would cut too deep. Just enough to coax someone in the house to make a fuss.

Catherine would also reluctantly admit that her tendency to do this had increased since her engagements with Anne had become more frequent and open.)

“No,” Anne shook her head innocently, “close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Catherine narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I am putting my trust in you that you will not put something disturbing or dangerous in my hand,” Catherine stated in amusement, then closed her eyes and held out her hand, “I sincerely hope you don’t break that trust.” Anne laughed, and a few moments later, Catherine felt something smooth and cold against her palm.

“You can open your eyes now,” Anne said shyly. Catherine did so.

In her hand lay a small stone, mottled with green and white. She inspected it curiously.

“It’s Mariposite,” Anne explained, “I found it on my walk earlier with Kat and Jane.”

Catherine smiled softly, taking the crystal and rolling it between her fingers, marveling at the smooth surface.

“Thank you,” she took one of Anne’s hands and kissed the knuckles. Anne blushed.

“It’s supposed to help with sleep and strength,” she said quietly, then tilted her head and laughed, “and also the reproductive system apparently.”

Catherine snorted.

“Oh really?”

Anne blushed harder and looked away.

“That wasn’t supposed to imply anything, I just thought it was, um,” she coughed, and did not continue. Catherine smiled again.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Catherine pulled Anne down for a quick kiss.

Anne straightened up and beamed.

“You’re beautiful.”

Catherine wrinkled her nose despite the warmth blooming in her chest.

“You’re cheesy.”

Anne shrugged smugly.

“Maybe, but you still love me.”

“That I do.”

_That I do._

\---

“Good morning, Miss Catherine, how are you today?” Dr. Rede’s voice was calm and businesslike, but any coldness in her tone was dissipated by the crinkles by her eyes, evidencing her sincerity and kindness. Catherine smiled, and squeezed Anne’s hand instinctively.

“I am quite well, thank you,” she replied, “how are you?”

Dr. Rede smile tiredly.

“I am well. A bit worn down, but well,” she answered, scribbling something on her clipboard in a very doctor-like manner that made Catherine feel uncomfortably underqualified and silly. “How have things been going? Any major concerns?”

“It’s been going…um, well?” Catherine stammered, “Dr. Rede, this is, um…” she trailed off as she gestured to Anne, who was sitting next to her, coming to the embarrassing conclusion that they had never quite discussed the terms and conditions of their relationship. Sensing Catherine’s panic, Anne quickly jumped in.

“I’m Anne,” she stuck out a hand to shake, “I’m one of Catherine’s, erm…housemates.” Dr. Rede shook Anne’s hand firmly, and narrowed her eyes in amusement.

“Anne…you are the root, are you not?”

Anne’s cheeks turned such a bright red, it coerced a quiet chuckled out of Catherine sitting beside her.

“Yes, she is the root,” Catherine responded, smiling fondly. Dr. Rede nodded confidently, then paused with furrowed brows.

“Have there been…developments, in the disease’s progress?” Dr. Rede’s phrasing made clear the question she was asking.

Catherine smiled.

“Yes,” she affirmed.

“So I take it your problem is solved?” Dr. Rede smiled genuinely but did not look up from her note-taking. Catherine winced.

“Sort of,” she hesitated, unsure of how to begin, “how long does it take for the flowers to subside?”

“The flowers?” Dr. Rede looked surprised, “they should stop coming once you find out your love is returned.”

Anne’s eyebrows knit together.

“They’re still coming,” Anne’s voice was tight, and she squeezed Catherine’s hand as if her life depended on it. “How is that possible?” Dr. Rede frowned, tapping her pen relentlessly against the metal clamp on the clipboard. The persistent sound made Catherine want to scream.

“I suppose there are a few scenarios where it could be possible,” Dr. Rede mused thoughtfully, then turned to Catherine, “are you sure that Anne is the root?”

“Yes.”

“And you are sure that you love Catherine?”

“Yes,” Anne’s voice was firm, “undoubtedly.” Dr. Rede’s frown deepened.

“Interesting,” she continued to tap her pen, “perhaps the disease has mutated.”

Anne sat forward anxiously.

“Well, what do we do?”

Catherine’s heart sank as Dr. Rede’s brow furrowed.

“To be completely honest, I’m not quite sure,” she said apologetically, “I don’t know if the surgery would be safe on a mutated strain of the disease. We have no documentation of what the side effects might be.” Catherine could feel Anne’s hand shaking in her own.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Anne cried, “you’re supposed to be a doctor, you supposed to be able to fix this!” Catherine flinched as Anne raised her voice dangerously, but Dr. Rede just smiled kindly.

“I think I understand your description of her now,” she remarked to Catherine, her dark eyes twinkling with mirth. Then she faced Anne resolutely. “All is not lost. I will do what research I can to come up with some viable options. In the meantime, I suggest you schedule another appointment a couple weeks down the road. The flowers may stop on their own, but if not, we can touch base and continue from there.”

“But there is a way to cure it, yes?” Anne asked anxiously.

Dr. Rede hesitated.

“Yes, normally the surgery is an affective cure,” she began slowly, “but again, I would not suggest that route until I can collect more information.” Anne looked like she was about to protest again, but Catherine silenced her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Catherine said quietly. 

She couldn’t tell if her stomach was turning because of her anxiety, or because of the flowers.

\---

Anne, for perhaps the first time in both her lives, was eerily silence on the drive back. Her knuckles were a sickly white as she gripped the steering wheel, almost as if she afraid it would slip out of her grasp if she loosened her hold on it.

Catherine studied her carefully, unsure of what to say, of what to do, that would make their situation any less painful.

It was Anne who broke the steely silence.

“Let’s go on a date.”

Catherine started in surprise. Of all the things, that was lightyears away from what Catherine had expected Anne to bring up.

“Sorry?”

“A date,” Anne repeated, “let’s go on a date.” She didn’t look at Catherine in the passenger’s seat, instead keeping her eyes on the road.

“Okay. Okay,” Catherine responded quietly with a smile she knew Anne would not see, “let’s go on a date.”

Anne held her hand out to Catherine, but did not look at her. Catherine took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Anne bit her lip.

“Tomorrow, 4 o’clock.”

It wasn’t until that point that Catherine noticed the tears trickling down Anne’s cheeks.

\---

“I’m sorry.”

Catherine turned around sharply.

Anne stood in the doorway, her eyes downcast, her face pale and expressionless, her hand braced against the doorframe.

“Please,” Catherine implored softly, “say something else. Apologies accomplish nothing.” Anne sniffed and wiped her eyes.

“I have nothing else to say,” Anne responded hollowly, “you love me, and it’s killing you.” Catherine sighed.

“But I am happier now than I have been for months,” Catherine tilted her head and stepped forward, “I am happier now because of you.” Anne did not respond, instead shaking her head and burying her face in her hands.

Catherine sighed again and paced forward, pulling Anne’s hands away from her face. Anne looked up at her, eyes watery and wide.

“I know you are sorry. But there is nothing that can be done,” she wiped away Anne’s tears, “I love you, and I do not resent you.” Anne did not hold her gaze, and stared off into the room behind her.

“I just wish there was something, anything I could do,” she croaked weakly.

Catherine clenched her jaw as she felt a tear leak out the corner of her own eye.

“Kiss me,” she replied. Anne’s gaze snapped back.

“What?”

“Kiss me,” Catherine repeated, squeezing Anne’s hands tightly, “hold me, love me. Make it worth it.” Anne stared at her in anguish, and for a moment Catherine was afraid she has unwittingly crossed an invisible line.

Then Anne pulled Catherine’s hands forward and pressed them against her waist, before moving her own hands up to cradle Catherine’s face.

“I love you.” Anne’s words were almost drowned out as she leaned in and captured Catherine’s lips in a searing kiss. Catherine’s hands tugged unconsciously on Anne’s waist, pulling their bodies closer together. The warmth of Anne seeped into her, making Catherine feel too hot and too cold at the same time, and then she was on the ground, the hardwood floor digging into her kneecaps, reminding her of her own mortal fragility, and Anne’s lips moved against hers in such a way that made Catherine hands shake from where they lay comfortably against Anne’s hips.

“You’re so strong,” Anne whispered, hushed into soft breaths against Catherine’s lips, “I wish you didn’t have to be.”

Catherine wanted so badly to argue, to protest, to reprimand Anne for talking to her like the rest of the queens, like she was fragile, or like she was some heroic being, but the second she opened her mouth, all she could get out was a horrible cry, like that of a wounded animal.

Her fingernails dug into the delicate skin above Anne’s hipbone, her jaw clenched and unclenched, her eyes were screwed tight in agony, in terror, in fury at everything. She let her head fall forward against Anne’s chest and let out another strangled groan as the tears came, thick and hot and filled with shame.

Catherine vaguely heard footsteps and distantly wondered if this was it, if this was Anne finally leaving her, just like she had predicted, just as it always was.

But no, she could still feel Anne’s warmth from where her head lay, she could still feel Anne’s skin beneath her own fingertips.

Her own cries had silenced now, or at least, she was unable to hear them. Her throat ached painfully, and in a moment of clarity, she rejoiced at the absence of flowers. Tears still dripped steadily down her cheeks.

Hands grasped at her, pulling at her shoulders, her face, her arms. She could not tell if they were real, or if they were some type of tactile hallucination. Faces, too, appeared throughout her vision and tested her grasp on reality. Her stomach turned, and the familiar feeling of something climbing up her throat thrust her into despair, because of course after everything the flowers were still there, of course she wasn’t allowed to have a break, to take it easy.

She release her iron grip on Anne’s waist and tugged rather unceremoniously on Anne’s shirt.

“What do you need?”

She clutched at her throat, trying to convey what she knew she could not say.

She became conscious of her position changing abruptly, a trash can being thrust into her grasp, a hand rubbing her back in soothing circles, someone holding her hair away from her face, and with these realizations the grief of her affliction set in.

God, she couldn’t leave her family behind. Not after everything. It would be mortifying, it would be selfish, it would be unfair to herself, if she died now.

She couldn’t.

She would not.

She vomited directly into the bin in front of her.

\---

Catherine didn’t really wake up.

It was more like, one moment she was unaware, and then suddenly she was.

Suddenly her eyes were open, suddenly she could hear murmurs, suddenly her tongue felt dry and tasted faintly of acid and bile.

Suddenly she was in her own room. The lights were off, but soft sunlight beamed in through the windows behind white curtains. Her bedspread was soft and pristine.

Catherine pushed herself up slowly, despite the dull ache in her head, throat, and chest. Her stomach turned once again, and she paused abruptly.

The last thing she wanted was to throw up again.

Footsteps began to approach, and in a moment of confusion and panic, Catherine was tempted to leap out of bed and hide. Instead, she eased herself up into a sitting position as the door creaked open to reveal Anna.

“You’re awake,” Anna’s voice was hushed, not quite surprised, not quite relieved.

“Yes,” Catherine croaked, wincing as the dryness of her throat caused her voice to grate painfully.

“How do you feel?” Anna asked, a little louder this time. She stepped into the room fully, closing the door behind her and sinking into Catherine’s unoccupied desk chair. Catherine blinked slowly.

“Unreal,” she replied. Anna raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Unreal – bad or unreal – good?”

Catherine shrugged.

“Not bad or good, just weird,” she frowned, “like I’m in a dream.” Anna nodded, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. Catherine studied her for a few more moments before speaking again. “What happened? I don’t remember.”

Anna chewed her lip and knit her eyebrows together, as if deep in thought.

“You went…I don’t even know,” she began quietly, “it was like you were having a seizure, or like you were being possessed. We couldn’t figure out how to help you. You were just so…overwhelmed, I guess, that you weren’t really being responsive. We tried to move you but you were kinda…latched on to Anne.” Anna sighed for a moment before finishing with her narrative. “Then you threw up and passed out.”

Catherine stayed silent for a long while, letting the story sink in. She was too exhausted to make anything of it. She let her eyes flutter closed as she hummed softly.

“Did you call the doctor?” Catherine finally asked.

“No,” Anna chuckled, “I wanted to, but I knew it would have only made things worse for you. You weren’t running a fever or anything. We wouldn’t have even known what to tell them.”

Catherine nodded, satisfied.

Anna cleared her throat.

“Is there anything you need?” She asked softly. Catherine smiled and closed her eyes.

“I’m alright.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind,” Anne replied amiably. Catherine smiled again, despite her pounding head and dry throat and aching chest.

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

“You are one of the most incredible people I know,” she stated quietly, “I am very glad to have met you.”

“Are you saying goodbye? Because I will fucking smack you if that’s what you’re—”

“No, no no,” Catherine laughed softly, before breaking off into a fit of wheezing coughs, “I just…you’ve helped me through all of this, and I don’t think I could ever give you enough credit.” Catherine opened her eyes, peering over at where Anna was in her desk chair, a look filled with fondness and sincerity written on the other queen’s face.

Anna swallowed harshly.

“You were one of the first people in this life to talk to me like I was a person,” Anne replied hoarsely, “to you, my status, my upbringing, my wealth, my looks, meant nothing. Even Kat looked at me with some apprehension because of my story and subsequent power. But you just looked at me as if I was a blank slate. It made me want to do better the second time round.” She paused. “You made me want to be better.” A tear streaked down Anna’s cheek, and she made no move to conceal it or wipe it away.

Catherine gazed at her softly.

“I would have given up long ago if you hadn’t been there for me,” Catherine’s voice wavered, “I owe you my life.”

Anna sniffed hand set her jaw with defiance.

“Then I owe you mine,” she replied.

“Then I suppose we are at an impasse,” Catherine responded with mirth. Anna laughed gently, another tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps we are approaching better times????? perhaps???
> 
> i really wanted to get some soft!anna in because god i love her so much and i needed something happy to end with


	8. Uh oh i did an oopsie

Hi. 

I’m stupid.

I tried to update my laptop and it basically broke. I don’t know how long it will take to fix, or even if it can be fixed.

Of course, I was even more stupid and instead of writing this fic on some backed up document, I saved it in a word document.

Which means that this story only exists in two places: here on ao3, and in a gigantic word doc saved to my computer’s desktop.

There are two problems at hand.

Problem number one: I no longer have an efficient method of writing the rest of this story, and likely will not for quite some time.

Problem number two: I probably lost the two and a half chapters I had written, one of which was completely ready to be published.

So yeah, kinda kicking myself internally right now.

I basically just wanted to give an update and make sure y’all know that I do have plans for this story. 

I just don’t know exactly when I will be able to enact those plans. 

I may have to rewrite everything, I may have to try and write from my phone, I may have to wait a while to gain access to my laptop again. I don’t know.

Anyways, hope y’all have a good day.

Hopefully I will talk to y’all soon.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment please please please it helps so much with motivation!!!!


End file.
